


Downhill

by Clueless_Pigeons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Confusion, Diary/Journal, Drama, Drarry, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Roommates, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueless_Pigeons/pseuds/Clueless_Pigeons
Summary: Slowly but surely Harry is falling apart. Whilst trying to finish his Eighth Year at Hogwarts, the weight of all that happened over the last years is becoming too much; too much to keep carrying on his own.But what will happen when an unexpected someone reaches out to take some of that weight off? Will he manage to hold Harry together before it's too late? Or will everything go downhill to the point of no return?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 29
Kudos: 74





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much for clicking on this story. It means a lot. 
> 
> Before we start, however, I would like you to know that English isn't my first language so there could still be some grammar mistakes in there. Feel free to point them out ;) 
> 
> Also, every chapter will contain a quote from a song. The quote will mostly have something to do with what will happen in the chapter. I do not own any of the songs or the quotes I use of them, of course. 
> 
> I will place a link to the song on the title underneath the quote itself so you can listen to it if you want to.
> 
> Anyway, enough of me rambling and let's get on with the story. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: This story deals with PTSD and panic attacks. If you are uncomfortable with any of that, please proceed with caution.

> _"Sun is shining in the sky, there ain't no cloud in sight."_
> 
> [ _Electric Light Orchestra - Mr. Blue Sky_ ](https://youtu.be/wuJIqmha2Hk)

**30 August 1998**

After many cold and wet months, August had been unusually hot in England. The once green grass had turned a dry yellow, the leaves on the trees were shrivelling up underneath the hot rays of sunshine and even the birds seemed to have lost their will to fill the air with their cheerful chirps. 

Harry, on the other hand, absolutely adored the hot weather. Despite the way he had been feeling over the last few months since the end of the war, summer always made him feel more alive and he found himself smiling more often. 

Even now, as he was watching the outside world through the open window in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry relished in the warm breeze that brushed against his face, occasionally sipping his sweet Earl Grey tea. He could sit there for what felt like eternity.

"Summer really is a lovely season, isn't it?" The smooth, dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood filled the - for once - pleasant silence. Her baby blue eyes glimmered behind the rim of her own teacup, an easy smile dancing around her lips. She was sitting on the windowsill next to him, her legs dangling over the edge. "The whole world seems to be alive and buzzing." 

Harry hummed in agreement, his head leaning against the wall. 

Luna had been visiting him frequently since he had arrived at the old, cranky house. One way or another - he still didn't know how - she had been able to find him, though he was certain he had made sure nobody _could_ find him. The wards around the house were pretty hard to cross, if he said so himself. 

_"You just have to think out of the box, Harry"_ , she had said, a sweet and innocent smile plastered on her face. 

Harry had given her a confused look, trying to understand what she meant by that. Unfortunately his mind had come up blank - something that seemed to happen quite often when he talked to the girl. 

"Tell me, Harry," Luna said now, "how have you been?" 

It was a simple question. A question many people ask each other on a daily basis. Yet Harry thought it one of the hardest questions in the world. It was easy to lie and tell the other person you had been doing fairly well and most of the times when people asked him that question he would do just that. He would smile and lie to them, saying he was fine before turning the attention away from him. 

But with Luna... Luna was a whole different story. 

When she had asked him that question the first time she had come around, he had lied to her like he had done with the countless of other people who had asked him. However, she hadn't taken his _'I'm fine'_ as an answer. She had told him she didn't like it when people lied to her. She had somewhat demanded him - in her own kind of way - to tell her how he really felt. She had reassured him that he didn't need to pretend in front of her and eventually he had dropped his walls around the girl, opening up a little more every time they talked. 

Though he couldn't help but try one last time. "Brilliant", he responded, willing his lips into a - what he hoped to be - reassuring smile. "I'm doing brilliantly." 

Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, Luna narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure?" she asked, the dreamy undertone in her voice now gone. 

Harry nodded quickly, taking another sip from his tea to hide his face. "Of course. Why would I lie to you?" 

Luna pursed her lips, her face turning thoughtful as she picked a biscuit from the plate on the side table next to the window. "I don't think I believe you." 

A laugh escaped his throat as she said this. Of course she wouldn't believe him, she never did. Though it was worth the try. 

"You know", Luna continued, her eyes wandering the room until they landed back on him. An involuntary shiver ran down Harry's spine at the intensity with which her blue eyes stared at him. "From the moment I had entered the house today, I saw more Wrackspurts than usual. The closer I got to you, the more there were. You're practically covered in them." 

Harry sighed, running a tired hand through the mess he called his hair. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, his voice sounding defeated. 

A comforting hand was placed on his knee. "Tell me what's troubling you, Harry?" 

Although Harry knew he could practically tell Luna everything that was on his mind, everything that kept him awake at night, now - at that moment - he didn't feel like sharing anything with her. Actually, now that he thought about it, he really wanted to be alone... 

"It's just... everything, I guess?" He shrugged helplessly as he fidgeted with a loose string on his t-shirt. 

Understanding flashed through Luna's eyes as the girl nodded, squeezing his knee gently. "You're still having nightmares?" 

He nodded

"And they're still about the same things?"

He nodded again.

Luna sighed as she leaned closer to Harry, resting her head on his shoulder. Though the gesture wasn't something big, Harry always felt a little better knowing Luna was trying to lift his spirits, if only by a little. 

"Have you used the journal I've given you yet?" she asked after a while.

The journal... Harry hadn't touched the little notebook since he had placed it on top of the desk in his room. It had been a birthday present from Luna. She had said it would help him arrange his thoughts if he wrote about the things that had happened that day or about random things that came to his mind.

He had smiled at the girl when she had given it to him, thanking her politely, though he had known he wouldn't do much with it. Really, he wasn't planning on keeping some sort of diary. He was sure - after all that had happened - he had grown out of that stage. 

As if feeling what he was thinking, Luna said, "You don't _have_ to use it, if you really don't want to." She played with the almost empty teacup in her hands. "I just thought it might help you coping with everything. My mind healer has given me one too and - surprisingly - it _has_ helped me in getting over a few of the things that have happened. So I thought it could help you too, since you don't want to go see and actual healer... yet." 

"I know", Harry said, an apologetic smile grazing his lips, although Luna couldn't see his face. He really appreciated the thought behind the gift, yet he didn't see himself doing it. It felt ridiculous. 

Shrugging, Luna sat up, glancing at the enormous clock on one of the walls. "Oh!" she exclaimed, quickly standing up and placing her empty cup of tea on the side table as if it had suddenly burnt her. "How silly of me!" 

Harry turned around to look at the girl, his head tilted in question. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern clouding his features. 

Luna waved away the concern, a smile growing on her pale face. "Nothing's wrong", she assured him. "I've just totally forgotten I had promised Ginny I would meet up with her to get some school supplies and join her afterwards for a cup of tea."

At the mention of the girl, Luna's face had completely lit up, every trace of sorrow or sadness gone as if it had never been there in the first place. 

"Ginny?" Harry asked, a knowing smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. 

A layer of pink coated her cheeks as she looked away. "Yes", she whispered, smiling brightly. 

Chuckling, Harry stood too. "You have to be careful, Luna. I can already see the Wrackspurts starting to gather around your head." 

Luna gasped loudly, flailing her hands around her head as if to wave away the invisible creatures. "I really should be going then before my mind becomes too clouded", she said quickly, grabbing her bag and walking in the direction of the front door. 

Harry laughed, throwing his head in his neck as he followed the blonde to the hall, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "I'll show you out", he offered, already reaching to open the door.

But before he could take hold of the doorknob, Luna caught his wrist, her slender fingers wrapping firmly around it. She turned back towards Harry, her intense blue gaze freezing him in place. 

The laughter died from his lips when he saw the serious expression in her eyes. 

"Please consider using that journal, Harry", she said. "I know you think it won't help, but you never know." Her eyes darted around the entrance hall of 12 Grimmauld Place, a sad smile appearing on her lips. "It also might be the solution to finally get rid of all the Wrackspurts around here." 

And with a last smile, Luna let go of his wrist and walked out the front door, her blonde curls swaying in the slight summer breeze as she walked. Once Harry felt her cross the heavy wards that guarded the old house, she Disapparated from sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my [Instagram](https://instagram.com/cluelesspigeons?igshid=1sdbxd2lm8vj5) and stay updated for future uploads and even other works! 
> 
> Also, let me know what you thought of the first chapter!! :)


	2. 1 September 1998 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this chapter a while ago. it's not one of the best tbh ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

> _"The hardest part of ending is starting all again."_
> 
> [ _Linkin Park - Waiting For The End_ ](https://youtu.be/5qF_qbaWt3Q)

**1 September 1998**

"Mr. Potter! May we ask you some questions?" 

"Mr. Potter, where have you been all this time?" 

"What made you leave so suddenly, Mr. Potter?" 

Brushing off the many flashing cameras and the screams for attention with a polite - but tired - smile, Harry Potter stepped onto the scarlet train. He sighed in relief as the doors closed behind him, effectively shutting out the dozen or so reporters that had gathered on the platform. 

It was at times like this he truly despised his fame. After disappearing off the radar for the whole summer, he had hoped the excitement about him defeating the Dark Lord would have calmed down a little. However, as he leaned against the wall of the train corridor with a heavy sigh, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

A few weeks after the war had officially ended, Harry had needed some time alone to process everything that had happened. He had needed time to think, time to battle his demons. And when people kept ambushing him from the moment he set a foot outside, asking him questions about defeating Voldemort or begging him for yet another autograph, he decided it was time for him to disappear for a bit. 

He had packed his bags at the Burrow where he had been staying at that moment and had said goodbye to the Weasley family - with the promise of writing at least once a week, of course. Molly had embraced him tightly with teary eyes before he'd said his last goodbye and had Apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. 

However, he hadn't told _anyone_ he was going to stay at the old, dusty house. Nobody was supposed to know about his whereabouts. Even the owls hadn't managed to locate him, returning back to their senders with the unopened letter still in their beak or tied around their legs.

To say people were starting to worry about what had happened to their Saviour - their friend - would be an understatement. Nobody had a clue about where Harry had gone off to and if he would ever even return. For all they knew, he could have already been dead. 

It had even reached front page news in the Daily Prophet: _'Harry Potter has vanished from the face of the earth!"_

That was, until he had received his Hogwarts letter. 

The morning before his eighteenth birthday, Harry had been sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs with a hot cuppa of Earl Grey in his hands after a rather rough and sleepless night when all of a sudden he had felt something cross the heavy wards he had placed around the old house. 

Soon after, an unknown tawny owl had started pecking harshly at one of the windows, its huge eyes peering at him through the half-closed curtain. 

_"Weird"_ , Harry had mumbled under his breath as he'd set his still steaming cuppa on the coffee table and walked towards the impatiently pecking owl.

Wary of a possible ambush or attack, he had opened the window with his wand firmly clutched in his hand. 

As soon as the window was open enough, the owl flew inside, landing promptly on the back of the armchair Harry had vacated a few seconds ago. 

Approaching the owl slowly, Harry took the letter from its leg, closely examining the rather heavy envelope. He shook his head, an incredulous yet fond smile lifting at the corners of his lips once he saw the familiar Hogwarts crest on the seal of the envelope. Leave it to Headmistress McGonagall to find a way to reach him, even though he had done everything to make sure he _couldn't_ befound. 

As the little tawny owl realised it wasn't going to get any treats for the long journey it had made all the way from Scotland, it hooted exasperatedly and ruffled its feathers before flying away through the still open window, disappearing from sight once it had crossed the wards. 

With a heavy sigh, Harry opened the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the piece of parchment. 

It appeared that he - amongst every other student who hadn't got the chance to finish their final year at Hogwarts due to last year's events - was invited to go back for a so-called 'Eighth Year' to complete his education and hopefully receive a diploma. 

He had shaken his head, throwing the letter on the coffee table, and had sat back down in the chair, picking up his cuppa and taking a tentative sip. 

Was he really willing to go back so soon? Did he really want to drown in the attention people would give him all over again? Was he ready to face his friends again, knowing how disappointed - and probably furious - they were about him not telling them where he was? 

Those questions had kept him awake for several nights the following week and even now, as he was still standing in the dark, shaky corridor of the Hogwarts Express, he didn't know if he was ready... 

"Harry...?" 

Harry's head snapped up from where he had been staring at the ground at the sound of the very familiar voice. Even in his sleep he couldn't mistake the voice of the girl he once loved with all his heart. The girl he now saw as his own sister, one of his best friends. 

"Ginny", he whispered, his green eyes finding her bright brown ones. 

Before he could do so much as blink, however, Ginny had walked over to him, one of her hands colliding rather harshly with his cheek. A stinging feeling started spreading across one side of his face as Harry took a few steps back, bewilderment clear on his face. 

He deserved that, he knew that. In fact, he deserved far worse than only a slap to the cheek. 

After the war both Harry and Ginny had come to the conclusion that things had changed too much for them to still be together. So they had left it behind them, closing the chapter of their romantic relationship and starting a new one as good friends. 

So of course, he had expected the fiery redhead to be angry at him. He would have been surprised if she wasn't. He had just completely left without so much as a sign of life for _weeks_. Ginny had every right to be mad at him. 

Uncertain if he should, Harry chanced a look at the girl in front of him, seeing a whole mixture of different emotions visible in the depths of her brown eyes. 

"Ginny I-", he started to say, but she held up her hand to prevent him from saying anything else. 

"I don't want to hear it", she simply said. "I know you're sorry - of course you are - but do you have _any_ idea how worried we've all been?" 

Again, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but one look at the redhead made him close it just as quickly. 

"You haven't answered any of our letters", she continued as she crossed her arms over her chest, fixing him with an accusing glare. "Mum has been worried sick. She thought you'd finally had enough of our family. She thought she had lost another bloody son!" 

Guilt washed over him in agonisingly slow waves as the words echoed through the empty corridor. 

How could he be so stupid? Once again, he had caused people nothing but pain and it was all his own bloody fault. 

"I'm so sorry, Gin", Harry said after a few moments, running a defeated hand through his long, dark curls. 

"We didn't even know for certain if you were going to come back to Hogwarts this year", she said in a small voice, not much louder than a whisper. She stared at the ground, unable to look at him, her shoulders slumping slightly. It didn't take long for her quiet sniffs to fill the otherwise silent corridor.

Unable to keep seeing Ginny like that, Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her shuddering form and pulled her closer to himself, letting her sob against his chest. 

~*~

The silence in the compartment was slowly but surely becoming too much for Draco. He knew he shouldn't have told his friends yet. Still, they deserved to know. After all, they were probably the only real friends he had ever had. 

"So you're leaving for France this summer?" Blaise asked, playing with Pansy's fingers, intertwined with his own. His dark eyes looked at Draco with understanding, yet the blond could see the doubt and worry in them too.

Draco shrugged as he sank further down in his seat. "I don't think I have many other choices if I want to start over, Blaise. It's not like people here in Britain will look past that disgusting Dark Mark on my arm and give me a proper chance to prove myself." 

Pansy lifted her head from where it had been resting on her boyfriend's shoulder. "You don't have to worry about us, darling", she smiled. "Have you talked about it with your mind healer yet?" 

Recalling last week's session, Draco nodded. Surprisingly, the older man had been rather supportive of his request, saying that it might be good to start over somewhere people didn't really know him or what had happened to him. When he'd left Healer Glover's office he had felt a lot lighter than he had been feeling for months. 

"Healer Glover was rather supportive", he said to his friends now, the tiniest sliver of a smile twitching at the end of his lips.

"That's great, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "We're so happy for you! Aren't we, Blaise?" 

"Of course we are, love", Blaise replied, rolling his eyes playfully. "Although life will be different without you, mate." 

A breath - Draco hadn't realised he had been holding - escaped his mouth. He honestly hadn't thought his friends would react as well, if not better than his mind healer. He had expected them to start yelling at him - mostly Pansy though - telling him that he was about to make a mistake; that things wouldn't be better in France than they are here. 

"I know," Draco said, a relieved smirk appearing on his face, "but I won't be _that_ far away. You can always floo over for a visit." 

Silence again filled the compartment after that as its occupants didn't really have anything else to say. Instead they just enjoyed each other's quiet company; something they had done countless of times before in the Slytherin common room over the past seven years. 

Blaise was - surprisingly - reading a _Muggle_ book he had found rather interesting whilst Pansy was trying to sleep, her head resting back on her boyfriend's shoulder. Draco opted for simply staring out the window at the passing fields and woods. Watching as the fields slowly changed into higher hills and even some mountains with low current creeks lazily meandering their way through. 

Draco sighed as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his left arm, the place where the slowly fading - but still very prominent and vicious - Dark Mark had damaged his pale skin. He could still clearly envision the proud glimmer in his father's otherwise cold, grey eyes the day he had received the mark. He could still faintly feel the happiness that had made its way through the pain on his arm before passing out. The happiness of finally being able to please his father after years of trying... and failing. 

Luckily all that was over now. The Dark Lord had been defeated and Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, awaiting the Dementor's Kiss, the destiny of almost all Death Eaters.

Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had been put on house arrest in their manor in France. It was one of the reasons why Draco had chosen to go to France after Hogwarts and not some other country. That and his ability to speak fluent French, courtesy of his pureblood upbringing. 

His mother's sentence would last at least seven years. Enough time for Draco to - hopefully - build a life for himself and still be close to his mother. 

His own sentence consisted of him finishing his education at Hogwarts under condition that he didn't use any offensive spells without permission of the Ministry. They promised to keep a very close eye on him. Even after Hogwarts he was certain they wouldn't let him out of their sight that easily. After all, he _still was_ a known Death Eater and couldn't be trusted. 

Of course he was very grateful for the outcome of both his and his mother's trial. They could have ended up in Azkaban amongst his father and several other Death Eaters. Fortunately for them Harry Potter had chosen to speak in their favour on their trials, defending both Draco _and_ his mother in telling the Wizengamot how they had saved his life multiple times during the war. If it hadn't been for his testimony, Draco was sure they wouldn't have been let off so easily.

After their trial Draco had wanted to thank Potter, but the boy had seemed to have disappeared in thin air. And it wasn't long after that, that the headlines of almost every paper in Wizarding Britain spoke about the same topic: Harry Potter vanishing from the face of the earth. 

Draco wondered if their Saviour would return to Hogwarts this year. And if so, he hoped he would have the chance to thank the boy and apologise to him - as well as many others - for the way he had acted throughout their time at school. If he truly wanted to start over he should at least start with the people to whom he owed an apology, although he knew a simple apology couldn't really take back the things he had done to them. 

The sudden noise of people bustling around in the corridor took the blond out of his reverie. He turned away from the window, now facing the door of their compartment just in time to see a mob of black hair pass by, closely followed by a rather large group of students. They seemed to be herding outside in the corridor, all of them wearing a nervous or delighted smile. 

Awoken by the noise of the students in the corridor, Pansy lifted her head from Blaise's shoulder and glared daggers at the door. "Why can't I have a nice and peaceful nap for once?" she grumbled, already starting to get up and tell them to bugger off. "Some people need their beauty sleep." 

"I'll go", Draco offered instead, a mischievous glint shimmering in the depths of his silver eyes. He stood up and made his way to the door. 

"Don't you dare do anything stupid, Dray", Pansy warned, giving him a pointed look. "You know what the consequences are." 

Draco turned his head to look at his friends. "Don't worry, Pans", he smiled. "I'll just go and see what the fuss is all about." And with those words he opened the door of their compartment and stepped onto the corridor, only to be greeted by a swarm of bodies pressed against his own. 

He huffed in exasperation and tried to look over the heads of the students to find the culprit of this stupidly unnecessary gathering. 

It didn't take him long to find it, however. There, in the middle of it all, the black mob of messy curls accompanied with crooked round glasses was trying to make their way through the crowd - and failing miserably. 

_Of course_ , Draco thought, _the only person to cause such an uproar must be the Saviour of the Wizarding World_.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" His voice echoed through the small corridor, making the crowd fall silent.

A mixture of fearful and hateful eyes turned towards him, but Draco chose to ignore them. Instead opting for casually leaning against one of the doors of the compartments, crossing his arms over his chest, and an annoyed expression present on his sharp features. 

~*~

Harry couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy noticed all the vile looks that were sent his way as he stood there in the small corridor, his piercing gaze roaming over Harry's face. 

"Potter," Draco sneered, his sparkling grey eyes finally meeting Harry's emerald green ones, "if you could be so kind as to take your Fanclub elsewhere, that would be highly appreciated." 

The very familiar rush of adrenaline Harry always got from bickering with the Slytherin almost made him laugh out loud. Oh, how he had missed that feeling. It almost made him feel _normal_ again "And since when have I ever done anything you told me to, _Malfoy_." 

A smirk appeared on the blond's delicate features as he shrugged. "Fine," he said, "have it your way." 

For a split second Harry thought Malfoy was about to draw his wand on him, but instead he stood straight up and turned to address the still present group of students whom were hungrily waiting for the two of them to start a fight. "Everyone go back to your respected compartments!" he bellowed loudly. "And if I see one of you out here again I'll make sure you'll be hexed into the next century." He glared at them as they started to scurry away in the direction they came from, not wanting to have an angry Death Eater after them. 

"Hex them?" Harry asked once only the two of them remained in the corridor, his head tilted in confusion. "I thought you weren't allowed to practice offensive spells without permission..." 

"Who says _I'll_ be the one to hex them?"

Shaking his head, smirking slightly, Harry muttered, "Touché." 

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him before turning around and opening the compartment door he had been leaning against earlier. 

However, before he went inside, he glanced back at Harry still standing in the empty corridor. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head. "I'll see you around, Potter", he said instead and went inside, leaving Harry alone. 

"Yeah, see you", Harry mumbled to himself. He turned around and made his way further down the train to get to his friends' compartment. 

Nerves started to kick in the closer he got. He will see his best friends again. His best friends with whom he had fought a war, friends who had stayed by his side no matter what, yet he had abandoned them. He had left them. 

Now that he really thought about it, he had been a horrible friend to them for the past few years. It was his fault, after all, they had to fight a war. It was his fault so many people had died. He was the one responsible for all their grief. 

If only he had been a little faster... 

It actually wouldn't come as a surprise if Ron and Hermione told him they didn't want to be friends anymore. 

"I still can't believe I actually agreed to go back to Hogwarts for a _full_ year." Ron's voice filtered through the slightly ajar door from the next compartment. 

"Honestly, Ron," Ginny sighed exasperatedly, "could you stop whining for one minute? I've only just arrived and I already wish I didn't join you at all." It was silent for a moment and Harry could clearly picture the annoyed look on Ginny's face, even though he couldn't see it from where he was standing. "I can see now why Mum practically forced you to go back." 

A smile appeared on Harry's face as he heard his best friend mockingly repeat his sister. He could only imagine the way Ron was looking, his face not far off from that of an angry, ginger toddler. 

Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe he didn't have to worry about anything. After all, Ron and Hermione still were his best friends. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered all the Gryffindor courage he could muster.

He could do this! He could confront them! He was ready!

With a slightly shaking hand, Harry pushed open the door of the compartment and stepped inside.

All four heads of the people inside immediately turned his way.

"Hi guys...", Harry said awkwardly. 

The silence that followed nearly suffocated Harry as he stood in the doorway of the narrow door, not trusting his legs enough to take another step forward. 

Luna and Ginny were both watching the exchange - or the lack thereof - between the trio with an amused twinkle in their eyes.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, looked at Harry as if they had just seen a ghost. Different emotions flashing behind their wide eyes. 

Nobody was saying anything and it made Harry slowly go mad. Weren't they happy to see him? Of course they weren't. He had abandoned them. Coming back was a mistake. He wasn't ready for this...

After what felt like hours, with Harry still awkwardly standing in the doorway, fighting his internal battle, Hermione finally made the first move. She closed her ever present book and stood up, crossing the small gap between them and throwing her arms around Harry. 

"Oh Harry!" she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly as if to prevent him from leaving them again. Her shoulders shook slightly as quiet sobs escaped her mouth. "You're back." 

It didn't take long for Ron to join the party too, wrapping his arms around his best friend and girlfriend. "Welcome back, mate", was the only thing he said before his voice broke, a lone tear escaping his eyes. 

Harry could feel their forgiveness washing over him as they stood there, swaying gently to the rhythm of the moving train. They were all reunited again, the Golden Trio was whole again. 

Maybe, just maybe, they could have a normal year for once... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my [Instagram](https://instagram.com/cluelesspigeons?igshid=1sdbxd2lm8vj5) and stay updated for future uploads and even other works! 
> 
> Also, let me know what you thought of the chapter!! :)


	3. 1 September 1998 (Part 2)

> _"Let me apologise to begin with."_
> 
> [ _Linkin Park - In Between_ ](https://youtu.be/YgVzhgygYfs)

**1 September 1998**

Once every First Year had been sorted and all the plates were filled to the brim with delicious-looking food, the Great Hall burst with excitement. Students left and right were talking and laughing about anything and everything, occasionally whispering something or subtly pointing in the direction of someone sat at the extra table in the middle of the other four tables. 

The Eighth Year table. 

All returning Eighth Years were sitting at that table, talking quietly amongst each other and ignoring the attention - good or bad - they were all getting. 

Compared to the other tables though, the Eighth Year table was relatively more quiet. Of course, you would hear someone laugh occasionally about something that had been said, but it wasn't the same as it used to be. 

There hung a heavy feeling in the air around the Eighth Years. A heavy feeling that came with the weight of returning to this very place. The weight of having to fight in a war. The weight of seeing people die in front of you. The weight of losing too many loved ones. 

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath to try and stop his hands from shaking. 

From the moment he had set foot in the castle, memories of what had happened only a few months ago plagued his mind. Images of all the people who had given their life for him flashed before his eyes, causing Harry to be in a rather black mood. 

And to top it all off, a few students had already walked up to him, asking for an autograph. Not to mention the stares and whispers directed his way as he walked by. 

He shouldn't have come back. He wasn't ready for this yet. 

"Harry?" Hermione's worried voice drifted through the low buzz of voices in the Great Hall, her big, brown eyes eyeing him thoroughly from the other side of the table. "Are you alright?" 

Alright... He had been asking himself that question many times, but if he was completely honest he hadn't been alright for quite some time now. 

He wasn't going to say that though. It would only worry his friends more and he didn't want that because - really - he was fine. Nothing he couldn't handle. 

A forced smile curled at the end of Harry's lips. "Of course 'Mione", he said. "I'm fine. No need to worry about me." 

Hermione's suspicious gaze held his own for a few more moments. A few moments in which Harry feared she had looked right through his easy lie and was now readying herself to scold him and tell him lying wasn't going to solve his problems. 

That fear, however, disappeared as the brunette gave her friend a small smile before returning to her food, an old-looking book balancing in her lap. Harry squinted at the title on the cover: _'A History Of House Elves'_. He couldn't quite imagine something interesting written in that book - or in any book for that matter. 

Harry poked at the little food left on his plate. He didn't really feel like eating anymore, not that he'd eaten much of the food anyway. 

"Hey, mate?" Ron asked from beside Hermione, his fork pointing to an untouched piece of roasted chicken on Harry's plate. "Are you still going to eat that?" 

Shaking his head, Harry offered Ron his plate, the latter gratefully taking the piece of meat and starting to eat it, earning him a few disgusted glares from their friends around them. 

"You haven't eaten much, Harry", Hermione noted, ignoring the chewing sounds coming from the boy next to her. She gave Harry a pointed look. 

"I'm not hungry." Harry shrugged. 

"Okay, well. Maybe you would like some treacle tart?" she asked, already trying to get the attention of Dean who seemed too busy with staring at the Irishman next to him to notice Hermione's attempts for him to pass her the treacle tart. 

Harry shook his head again. Even his favourite dessert didn't look as appetising as it used to. "No thanks, Hermione. I'm all good." 

Hermione looked at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "But I've barely seen you eat anything tonight!" she exclaimed, concern filling the depths of her brown eyes. 

He hated it. He absolutely hated the concern - and even the pity - he could see in not only hers, but in many other people's eyes. He was perfectly fine, goddammit! 

"I've already told you," Harry mumbled, his voice low and annoyed, "don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just not hungry at the moment." 

Doubt was still visible in her eyes when she finally managed to get Dean's attention, passing the platter on which the treacle tart lay. She took a piece and handed it to Harry. "Please, at least...", she said quietly, her face pleading. "At least take this piece for if you get hungry later on." 

With a small, reassuring smile Harry took the - in napkin wrapped - piece and put it on the table, promising his friend to eat it later if he felt hungry. 

~*~

A few seats down the table, a certain blond was eyeing his own plate with disgust. He, too, didn't feel particularly hungry that evening. 

Coming back was a huge mistake. 

He should have just asked the Ministry to transfer him immediately to France so he could join his mother. Maybe there he wouldn't be looked at as if he was the worst person to ever walk this earth. 

Students had literally stopped doing what they were doing only to glare at him or to throw the most hurtful insults at him as he walked past. 

Even now - sitting at the Eighth Year table with laughter surrounding him - he could feel the nasty looks that were sent his way. He was convinced it wouldn't take long for some students to take revenge for all the things he has done over the past years. They could easily corner him and hex him or beat him to a human pulp and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He couldn't defend himself - not without getting into trouble. And he surely couldn't rat them out either, since that would only cause things to get worse. 

He couldn't afford any of that. One step out of line and he would be sent to join his father in the dark, cold cells of Azkaban. 

Sighing deeply, Draco took another forkful of mashed potatoes. 

His two best friends - Pansy and Blaise - were sitting in front of him, both of them listening to their fellow Slytherin Theodore Nott telling them about his summer. How his father had been put into Azkaban too and how he had decided to rent an apartment for himself somewhere at the edge of Wizarding London in the hopes of getting a fresh start. 

Draco wasn't really paying much attention to the boy next to him, though. Instead, he chose to observe his two best friends and the way they would look at each other with one of those lovesick smiles etched onto their faces. 

It was still hard to believe how those two had ended up together. Especially since he thought Blaise hadn't shown any interest in Pansy whatsoever over the last couple of years. Yet he couldn't deny they didn't fit together either. They easily completed the other in a way Draco wished someone would complete _him_. 

He wished he could find someone who would look at him like that: with love clearly visible in their eyes. Someone who would hold him in the middle of the night when the nightmares managed to overtake the little happiness he had still left in his life. Someone who would whisper sweet nothings in his ear to try and calm him down when even the grounding techniques his mind healer had learned him didn't work. 

But who would want to be with a Death Eater like himself? Who would ever be able to look at him and not see him for the boy with the disgusting Dark Mark, but for who he really is? Broken and in need of someone who truly understood him. Someone who could love him unconditionally. 

"Draco, dear, you have to at least finish the food on your plate", Pansy said, her dark, pencilled eyebrows raising towards her hairline. "You know I can't allow you to leave if you haven't eaten anything more than that." 

Stopping their conversation to listen to what Pansy was saying, Blaise and Theo nodded. "She's right, Dray", Blaise said. "You know what happened last time." 

Though his stomach was protesting profusely, Draco sighed and ate more of the chicken on his plate. He knew they were right, of course. And he really didn't want a repeat of the situation from two years ago, thank you very much. 

~*~

Eventually the feast ended and prefects started to lead the students of their houses to their common rooms. The Eighth Years stayed behind, waiting for Headmistress McGonagall to show them their own common room. 

"Alright Eighth Years," McGonagall said as she came to stand at the head of their table, "your common room will be located in the additional Eighth Year tower, which I will show you in a second after we've made some clear agreements." 

She looked each and every Eighth Year in the eye before continuing, "Seeing as technically you do not belong to your original houses anymore, I have made some arrangements in which you will have your own house, namely the Eighth Year House. You can still lose or gain house points and also have a chance at winning the House Cup if you so please." 

At that Hermione made a sound of approval, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She could put her knowledge to good use again for yet another year. 

"You may also leave the school grounds on the weekends if you want to and there will be _no_ curfew for you -" different sounds of excitement rang through the now empty Great Hall "- _but_ ," McGonagall said, giving them all a pointed look, "you only get one chance. If I find that this privilege is being misused, I will not hesitate to give all of you an early curfew and a couple detentions." 

Various kinds of _'yes Professor'_ were heard from the students before McGonagall nodded her head. "Very well then," she said, gesturing towards the exit of the hall, "if you will all follow me now. I will lead you to your new common room." 

And with that, the group of Eighth Years started to make their way through the castle. They walked for what felt like hours to Harry until they came to a stop in front of a portrait. 

The rather big portrait was only occupied with one person: a lady clad in a beautiful, dark blue dress with bronze jewellery adorning her neck and ears. Her long jet black hair was pinned back with blue flowers. She smiled as she saw the group of students stop in front of the portrait, lowering the big, floating book she had been reading before. 

"Good evening, Rowena", McGonagall greeted, nodding her head politely. 

"Oh! My dear Minerva!", the woman - now called Rowena - exclaimed, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm so glad to see you again. How have you been?" 

McGonagall gave the portrait one of her rare, genuine smiles. "Quite well actually", she said. "Busy, but well." 

A smile of her own appeared on Rowena's full lips as she clapped her hands together, her eyes now scanning the students behind the Headmistress. "Oh, that must be our Eighth Year students!", she exclaimed happily. "Welcome back. My name is Rowena Ravenclaw. I am one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts and I - together with my three companions - will be guarding your common room." 

The students nodded in greeting to the lady in the portrait, smiling politely. 

"Speaking of your other three companions," the Headmistress said, "weren't they supposed to be here too? To greet our students?" 

Rowena sighed, an exasperated look in her blue eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid so", she said. "But you know how Godric and Salazar are. They kept bickering until I sent them away because poor Helga couldn't take it anymore. She's got a migraine from all their arguing, so I told her to lie down for a while." 

McGonagall nodded in understanding. "Putting you all together might have been a poor decision on my behalf. My apologies." 

"No, no, dear", Rowena shook her head, a loose curl falling into her face. "Don't worry about it. They have to sort things out eventually. Their rivalry has been going on for far too long now. They're grown adults, for Merlin's sake."

The Headmistress nodded to the portrait before clearing her throat and speaking the password - _chocolate biscuit_. She entered the common room, the students following silently. 

However, as Ron was about to enter through the portrait someone else entered at the same time, causing the ginger to stumble slightly. He looked up annoyed, only to be met with the dark robes and blond hair of none other than Draco Malfoy. 

"Look where you're going, Weasley", Malfoy muttered his silver eyes narrowing momentarily. Pansy and Blaise came to stand either side of him, just in case. 

Ron huffed. "If you weren't in my way, Malfoy, I wouldn't have bumped into you." 

"Oh, so now everybody should go out of their way to make room for the Golden Trio?" the blond laughed bitterly. 

"Draco...", Pansy warned, placing a well-manicured hand on his shoulder. 

Ron - now also flanked by his two best friends - opened his mouth to retort some nasty insult to the three Slytherins, but was interrupted by the strict voice of their Headmistress, "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy please refrain from whatever you were doing and join the rest of us inside." McGonagall gave the six of them a cautionary look. "We do not want a detention on our first day back, now do we?" 

The six of them all mumbled apologies under their breaths before walking in the common room. 

As the portrait closed behind them, they were greeted by the the circular room that was their new common room. 

Walls of rough stone blended beautifully with the dark wooden floor. Gold and silver coloured furniture was spread around the room, giving it a strangely welcome feeling. 

"These two colours are your new house colours", McGonagall explained. "You're new robes, as well as you luggage will be sent to your dorm which you will share with one other student. Your names are engraved next to your doors." 

Looking at all the students gathered in the room, the tiniest sliver of a smile spread across her lips, her eyes twinkling knowingly like only Albus Dumbledore's would. Harry wondered if it was something that came with being headmaster. 

"Now, I'm sure you will all be tired from the long day. Have a good evening and I will see you all tomorrow in class." And with those words the Headmistress walked out of the room, her emerald robes billowing behind her in a way Snape would be proud of.

As everybody rushed to their dorms to find out with whom they will share a room for the next ten months, Harry stayed behind in the - now abandoned - common room. He didn't feel like going to probably his and Ron's room, having to listen to Ron's endless blabbering about the Chudley Cannons' bad performances lately. 

Now that he actually thought about it, he wouldn't mind to share a room with someone else than Ron. Maybe it would be a nice change for once. 

He walked to one of the golden armchairs in front of the fireplace, sinking down into the soft cushions. The colours were very different from the ones in the Gryffindor common room, but - weirdly enough - Harry didn't really mind. He had thought he would miss the warm scarlet and gold more. 

"It's a nice combination, isn't it?", the voice of Rowena Ravenclaw echoed through the room. 

Harry looked up at the painting above the fireplace, which was now occupied with the Founder of the Ravenclaw House, her smile lighting up her whole face. 

"It sure is", he said. "It's very different from what I had expected, though." 

Rowena nodded thoughtfully before opening the book she was holding in her hand, casting a spell to make it float in front of her. 

Silence filled the room, the only sound coming from the dancing flames in the fireplace. Harry stared at the fire, admiring how the flames slowly destroyed the log. The way they surrounded the whole piece of wood, swallowing it until it literally fell apart and ruined its shape - its form - until the only thing left were its ashes. 

Maybe someday Harry will end like that too. Maybe someday the fire of his horrible thoughts will destroy him too as they burn inside him, consuming him ever so slowly. Only his 'ashes' will remain. Small pieces of himself that could easily be blown away by the smallest bits of wind. 

"Harry! Mate! You will _not_ believe what the bloody hell just happened!" Ron bellowed, his loud footsteps thundering down the wooden staircase to the boys' dormitories. 

It didn't take long for the ginger to fall down on the golden sofa next to Harry's armchair, taking deep breaths to calm down his racing heartbeat. 

"What happened, Ron?" Harry asked, tilting his head in question.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Rowena curiously peaking her head above the pages of her book, listening closely to what the boys were talking about. 

"I have to share a room with Blaise bloody Zabini!" Ron's arms swayed around dramatically and Harry couldn't resist but to roll his eyes at his friend's antics. 

Although Zabini was known for his rather sharp tongue, Harry didn't see the problem in having to share a room with the Italian. He hadn't really done anything bad to him in the seven years they had gone to Hogwarts together. "I don't think Zabini is _that_ bad." 

"What?!" Ron spluttered indignantly. "How can you say that, Harry! He's a bloody Slytherin!" 

"Ronald! Is it really necessary to keep on swearing like that?" Hermione chimed in, coming up the stairs of the girls' dormitories and sitting down next to her boyfriend with the same book about House Elves from earlier in her lap. "I can hear you screaming from all the way down the stairs to the girls' dormitories." 

Harry sniggered as Ron mumbled an apology, intertwining his fingers with his girlfriend's.

"And besides," Hermione continued, "not _all_ Slytherins are as bad as you say them to be."

Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, I'm sure. That's why most of the Death Eaters we've fought against were _Slytherins._ Not to forget our fellow _Slytherin_ students who didn't seem to have a problem with betraying Hogwarts during the Battle."

"Those were different times!" Hermione shot back. "Honestly, wouldn't you do the same if your family was being threatened by some dark wizard who wants to take over the world?" 

The couple glared at each other as Harry ran a tired hand through his messy, dark curls. He loved his best friends - he really did - but sometimes they could be such a pain in the arse. Even when they weren't together yet, they would start arguing about the smallest things like the amount of sugar they used in their tea. 

How they had managed to get so far, he didn't know. 

"Please guys," Harry said, catching the attention of his two best friends, "not tonight, alright? I know we're all tired, but please just let it be for now." 

They both sent him cold glares before resuming their bickering that now didn't have anything to do with Slytherins anymore. Now, they were just arguing about whether they should shower in the morning or in the evening. 

Seeing as they weren't going to stop any time soon, Harry glanced at his watch and decided to go upstairs to try and catch up - although reluctantly - on some sleep. 

"I'm going to bed", he announced, already standing up and stretching his arms above his head. 

"Already, mate?" Ron asked, pausing in the middle of his argument. "It's only a quarter past nine." 

"Let him be, Ron", Hermione sighed. "Maybe you should take a leaf out of his book for a change, hm?" 

Ron huffed, but didn't say anything else so Harry bid the both of them - and Rowena too, of course - goodnight before heading upstairs to find his own room. He looked at all the names next to the doors, yet it wasn't until the very last door at the top of the winding staircase that he saw his name in beautiful, gold calligraphy next to a name in silver calligraphy.

His breath stopped for a moment when he read the other name. 

He had to share a dorm room with none other than Draco bloody Malfoy. 

How lovely... 

The first thing Harry noticed when he opened the door to his new dorm was the scraping of charcoal on rough parchment. The room was cold, shivers running all over his body at the low temperature. Though August had been hot, the weather had turned completely around in only a few days. 

Malfoy was sitting on the window sill of the open window, small clouds of cigarette smoke coming out of perfectly shaped, rosy lips. One of his legs dangled over the edge of the sill, swinging to a rhythm only he could hear and a sketchbook was resting on his other leg. The cool September breeze blew over his face, causing some of his platinum hair to fall in his eyes as he took a deep drag from a lit cigarette between his fingers. 

Harry froze in the doorway at the sight in front of him. 

The way the stars seemed to make a halo around his head and the way he just so casually moved his piece of charcoal as if he did it every day. It kind of made him look... ethereal. 

Shaking the thoughts away from his mind, Harry walked further into the room, closing the door behind him. 

The sound caught the attention of the Slytherin, his head snapping towards the door, those sparkling, silver eyes landing on Harry who awkwardly stood there, his fingers fiddling with the end of his jumper sleeve. 

"Uhm... hi?" Harry said. 

Malfoy held Harry’s gaze for a few more moments until he nodded his head in greeting, a small smile curling at the end of his lips before he turned back to the parchment in his lap. 

Again, Harry froze.

Had Malfoy just smiled at him? Clearly he must have mistaken his smile for a sneer, right? There was no way in hell _Malfoy_ would smile at him willingly. 

"Are you going to keep standing there and stare at me like a buffoon?" Malfoy asked, not bothering to look up from his sketch. 

Feeling the blush creep up his cheeks at being caught staring, Harry quickly averted his eyes. Instead he opted for checking out the room. 

It wasn't big, yet big enough for two people with two beds, two desks and one big wardrobe they probably would have to share. A fireplace divided the room in half and - just like the common room - the furniture had or the colour gold or silver.

At one side of the room - opposite of the entry door - there was another door that led to a simple bathroom with two lavatories, a toilet and a shower. One of the sinks was clearly already claimed as different glass bottles, filled with questionable liquids, decorated one half of the shelves. 

Rolling his eyes, Harry walked back into the room, sitting down on the golden bed, seeing as on the silver bed an expensive looking suitcase had already taken refuge. 

"I didn't know you smoked", Harry said only to fill the rather uncomfortable silence that hung between the two boys. He took the piece of treacle tart Hermione had given him out of his pocket and unwrapped it. 

"Hm", Malfoy hummed, still not looking away from the parchment. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and his tongue poked out of his mouth in what Harry thought was a rather adorable way. 

“I also didn't know you could draw", he continued, popping a piece of the tart in his mouth. It was only then that he realised how hungry he actually was. 

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Potter", Malfoy said, finally glancing at Harry, who was sitting on his bed, trying his hardest not to spill any of the delicious dessert on his clothes. Unfortunately it seemed to be an impossible task as he managed to drop his piece at east three times in less than a minute. 

Malfoy sniggered at Harry’s struggling, putting away his sketchbook and closing the window. He ignited the fireplace with a simple flick of his wand. "Honestly, Potter," the blond smirked, "haven't you ever heard of manners?" 

Harry looked up, annoyance flashing through his green eyes. "It's not my fault the tart doesn't want to be eaten", he shot back, a playful smirk dancing around his lips. If he had to be completely honest, he quite liked this new side of Malfoy more than the snarky, spoiled git he used to be. 

Who would have thought those two boys would actually be able to have a rather peaceful conversation?

As he was once again lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed Malfoy trying to get his attention. Only when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, did he manage to snap free, flinching away from the touch. "Hm, what?" 

"I said I was sorry", Malfoy repeated, taking a seat on the edge of his own bed. 

"Sorry?" Harry asked, tilting his head, confused. "For what?" 

Shrugging, Malfoy ran a hand through his gel-less hair. "I don't know... Everything? For the way I've acted over the years, for what happened last year. Hell, even for the incident in the corridor earlier." 

Harry nodded slowly, processing the words. "It's not like I've been a saint either", he said. 

Malfoy huffed a laugh, his fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his left arm. "Yes, but I still felt I owed you an apology." 

"It's alright," Harry said, waving the blond's words away, "no harsh feelings. We've all done things we aren't proud of, but those times are over now." Harry gave Malfoy a shaky smile, clenching his slightly shaking hands. Memories were threatening to resurface again, yet he squished them down forcefully. Now was not the right time. 

Malfoy answered his smile with one of his own, although slightly hesitant. "I also wanted to say thank you", he continued. "You know, for saving us in the Room of Requirement and for you defending Mother and I at our trial." 

Again, Harry waved away the words, shaking his head with amusement now visible in the depths of his green eyes. "Don't worry about it. It was the right thing to do." 

Nodding his head, Malfoy stared at the flames roaring in the fireplace. 

"How is your mother, by the way. I've heard she has been transferred to France?" 

"Yes," Malfoy nodded again, "she's doing well considering the circumstances. She can't wait for me to join her at our small manor at the French countryside once I finish school, though." 

Harry hummed before visibly suppressing a yawn... and failing miserably. "Well," he said as he stood up from his bed and took a pair of joggers and an old-looking T-shirt out of his suitcase, "I think I'm going to hit the hay now." He walked towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Malfoy alone in their room. 

The blond sighed and laid back onto his bed. 

Never in his relatively short life had he expected this conversation to go as well as it did. It even felt like him and Potter had been friends for a few years - if you didn't count the small, awkward silences, of course. 

Perhaps sharing a dorm with the Saviour of the Wizarding World wouldn't be as bad as he first thought it would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. 17 September 1998

> _"Are you sick of feeling sorry and people saying not to worry?"_
> 
> [ _Set It Off - Why Worry_ ](https://youtu.be/sesKiKYQn84)

**17 September 1998**

"Bloody hell, Harry! You're still in bed?!" 

Ron's voice bellowed through the quiet of the room as he stormed inside, completely out of breath. His ginger hair was - honestly - an even worse mess than Harry's and his clothes were clearly put on hurriedly, seeing as his tie wasn't properly tied and the buttons of his white shirt didn't match the right holes. 

Groaning, Harry buried his head deeper into his pillow, immediately regretting it. He felt horrible. His whole body ached and his head felt like someone was continuously pounding on it from the inside out. 

He shouldn't have taken that Dreamless Sleep potion the night before. The way his body reacted to the potion afterwards really wasn't worth the two hours of sleep he had managed to get.

Why he hadn't learnt from his past mistakes, he didn't know. 

"C'mon mate", Ron sighed as he walked towards Harry's bed, pulling away the covers. "You know Hermione will kill us both if we're late again." 

Harry groaned again, placing his pillow on top of his head in an attempt to block out the light coming from the huge windows. "Oh, I'm sure 'Mione will kill you," he mumbled, blindly pointing in the direction of where he thought he had last seen his best mate, "but not only for being late, though." 

Ron shrieked rather loudly when he saw his reflection in the mirror on the wall next to the wardrobe, desperately trying to make himself look at least presentable. 

If Hermione saw him like that, she would definitely kill him, but not only for being late. Ron had lost count of all the times she had scolded him for turning up to classes looking like he had just rolled out of bed - which most of the times he had. Though, he couldn't help but love her even more for it. He knew she cared about him, even if it didn't always seem that way. 

Sighing loudly, Harry slowly emerged from the safety of his bed, steadying himself against it when another wave of pain washed agonisingly slowly over him. Even the tiniest movements of his head made it feel like it would explode. 

"Are you alright?" Ron asked as he saw his friend struggling to stay upright through the mirror. "You look awfully pale." 

Turning around so he was now facing Ron, Harry tried to smile but it only turned into a painful grimace. "It's nothing. I'm fine", he said softly. "Just a small headache." 

Ron eyed Harry suspiciously as the latter walked to the bathroom to search for some Pain Relief potion. He was pretty sure he had restocked his bottles somewhere near the beginning of the school year. 

"You've taken another Dreamless Sleep, haven't you?" Ron asked after a while of silence, coming to stand in the door frame of the bathroom, leaning against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Harry didn't answer, still rummaging through his glass bottles, searching for the right vial.

Where was that bloody potion? 

"I don't think you should keep taking that potion", Ron continued. 

Running a frustrated hand through his raven locks, Harry turned to look at his best friend, raising one of his eyebrows. "I think I can decide that for myself, thank you very much", he said curtly. He _really_ wasn't in the mood for someone to start telling him what to do and what not to do.

If only Ron would notice it too, though... 

Completely oblivious to the other boy's sour mood, Ron said, "Yes, of course, mate. But the after effects clearly aren't pleasant. So why do you even bother to keep taking them?" 

If he were completely honest, Harry had asked himself that question every time he took a dose. He had even promised himself one day that he wasn't going to buy new ones when he had drunk the last one the night before. Yet the following day, he had found himself standing in the apothecary a few streets away, asking the young witch behind the counter if they still had a small box of Dreamless Sleep potions. 

He hated to admit it, but - despite the pain and the headaches he had to endure when he awoke - he was getting quite addicted to the potion, depending on it more often than he would like. 

"Plus," Ron added, still leaning on the door frame, completely unaware of the internal turmoil of his best friend, "I've heard they're pretty addicting too." He ran a hand through his messy ginger curls. 

"Charlie once told me a story about one of his co-workers in Romania. He had gotten quite addicted to the potion and in a daze to get new dosages he had ran into the territory of one of their newest dragons. The poor lad got burnt alive -" he cringed at the thought "-the dragon wasn't trained as well as the older ones yet, so it had mistaken him for dinner." Ron shook his head.

"I don't understand why that potion is still legal", he added under his breath as Harry pushed past him, walking back into the room.

"Breakfast's ending soon", Harry noted, eyeing the numbers of the watch on his wrist before turning to his friend. "You should go down to the Great Hall, Ron. Hermione is probably waiting and you don't want to be late, do you?" 

Ron shook his head quickly as he thought back to the last time he had been late. He hadn't realised how sick Hermione actually was of both her best friends being late _all_ the time until she had refused to snuggle with him on one of the couches down in the common room.

From that day on, he had promised her to try and not be late again and he had yet to break that promise. 

"Well...", he started, scratching the back of his neck. "No, not particularly." 

As Harry bent over to retrieve his fallen tie from the ground, he groaned loudly. His brain once again seemed to make an attempt to break free from his skull.

If only he could remember where he had put his Pain Reliefs. 

Ron, who had already made his way to the door, stopped and turned around, hesitating for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay, mate?" he asked, worry clearly audible in his voice - Harry cringing slightly at that. "I can wait if you want. I'm sure 'Mione will understand if we expla-" 

"Go on without me, Ron", Harry interrupted, squinting at the buttons on his shirt. His vision kept blurring every few seconds. "I'll be fine. I don't want you to be late because of me again." He nodded towards the door, urging Ron on.

However, Ron still seemed to hesitate, clearly not wanting to leave Harry alone knowing he wasn't feeling well this morning. What if something happened when he was gone?

Eventually he sighed, opening the door - although reluctantly - and walking onto the small landing outside the door. "Alright then", he said, glancing one more time at Harry who hadn't moved a muscle. "I'll see you in classes then. I'll bring you something from breakfast, if I don't forget." 

Ron closed the door behind him, his footsteps fading away as he made his way down the stairs towards the common room. 

Once he was sure his friend wouldn't burst into his room again, Harry fell down onto his bed, cursing himself when pain shot through his head. 

He absolutely didn't feel like going to classes today. The only thing he felt like doing was sleeping, but he knew it wasn't a smart option. It would only make him feel even worse. 

Maybe he could start on his pile of homework? He could go to the library after his daily steaming hot cuppa of Earl Grey tea from the kitchens. Maybe his headache would have lessened by then? 

The sound of the door opening caused Harry to break free from his thoughts. Footsteps were walking around the room and he could just see the top of blond hair out of the corner of his half-closed eyes. The quiet humming of an unfamiliar song filled the silence. 

He moved to sit up, the sudden movement causing the Slytherin - who had been looking in the mirror at something on his face - to shriek and turn around, his wand pointing shakily in Harry's direction. 

"Merlin's beard, Potter!" Malfoy put a hand rather dramatically over his rapidly beating heart. "I thought you were already downstairs. I saw Weasley walk out the portrait when I came up here." 

Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his mouth at the blond's dramatic antics, amusement visible in his eyes, despite the still very present headache. "Yeah, I noticed." 

Malfoy huffed, running a hand through his hair before staring back at his reflection, his wand now safely tucked away in one of his robe pockets. "Anyway," he said, "what are you still doing here? Breakfast is almost over and classes are about to start." 

Flinging an arm over his eyes, Harry laid back down, mumbling, "I'm not going to classes today." 

Once again, Malfoy turned around, although now his eyes were more curious - and a bit accusing - instead of spooked like only a few moments earlier. He raised one of his pale eyebrows at Harry, urging him to elaborate. 

"I don't feel well enough today", Harry sighed, turning on his side so he was fully facing the other boy in the room. "I've woken up with a terrible headache and I'm also not in the mood to listen to the never-ending nagging of all the professors today. I think I'll just catch up with some homework at the library." 

"A headache?" Malfoy asked. "Why don't you simply take a Pain Relief potion?"

"I would have taken one if I could find them." 

Mumbling something under his breath - Harry bet it probably was something rude about Gryffindors - Malfoy walked to the bathroom and rummaged in one of his cupboards before emerging again with a small glass vial containing a soft, yellow liquid. "Here", he said, handing the vial to Harry, who gratefully took it, although confusion was visible in his eyes. 

"Where did you find that?" he asked. 

Malfoy shrugged as he put a worn and old-looking book in his satchel. "I always have some emergency potions for when the need would arise. You know, just in case." 

Uncorking the small bottle, Harry poured the liquid in his mouth, closing his eyes as he felt the pain slowly fading away. He sighed contently as he stretched and walked to his desk, gathering all the materials he would need for the many assigned essays this week. He already felt ten times better. 

"Well then, Potter", Malfoy said as he walked to the door and opened it. "I'll see you around, I guess." 

"No, wait!" Harry said, reaching out and grabbing Malfoy's slim wrist to hold him back. 

Malfoy turned to him expectantly, a faint blush visible on his normally pale cheeks. "Yes...?" 

Harry felt his own cheeks reddening under the scrutinising gaze of the Slytherin in front of him - whose wrist he was still holding, by the way. 

A vaguely familiar feeling settled in his stomach. A feeling - he remembered - he had only felt with two other people before: Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley. A feeling as if a thousand butterflies had been released in his stomach. 

He looked up from where he had been staring at the ground, his emerald green eyes meeting Malfoy's silver ones. 

For a moment, he seemed to get lost in them. Although on multiple occasions over the years the boys had been standing even closer than they were right now, Harry had never taken the opportunity to really _look_ at Malfoy's eyes. 

They were like two silver moons encircled by a dark ring and little specks of black could be seen closer to the pupil. They looked like a reversed night sky, truly mesmerising. 

"What do you want, Potter?" 

Malfoy's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. He blinked a few times to regain his focus. His cheeks reddened even more as he averted his gaze, finally letting go of the pale wrist. "I uhm... Can I uhm... Maybe... Could you..." 

Spit it out, Potter", Malfoy sighed. "I'm not letting you borrow my tongue either. It's enough you're already constantly borrowing my quills." 

"Yeah about that..." Harry scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. "Can I, perhaps, borrow another quill?" 

An unamused, pale eyebrow was raised at that question. 

Over the last two weeks, Harry had asked that same question multiple times. He managed to keep losing his quills, although he believed someone was deliberately stealing them. 

The first time Harry had asked Malfoy, he had looked at him much the same way as he was now - with an eyebrow raised and a bored expression visible in his silver eyes. He had simply turned away from Harry and resumed his writing, ignoring any further attempts of asking him for his quill. 

So Harry had been obliged to ask Hermione - again - if he could borrow one of her precious quills, promising her it would be the last time. He had tried to ask Ron once, but Harry had received a half-broken one that had eventually broken completely in the middle of a refresher test throughout the day. He hadn't bothered asking Ron after that. 

The second time Harry had asked Malfoy to borrow a quill, he had sighed and had thrown one at Harry's face without looking up, even though Harry swore he saw the corners of the blond's lips lift up slightly. 

The next time he had asked, Malfoy had even made a snide remark about Harry's inability to remember where he had put his stuff: _"Truly, you have the memory of a bloody goldfish, Potter. I'm surprised you haven't forgotten the way to our common room yet."_

At that, Harry had looked away, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. 

_"You have?"_ Malfoy had asked. _"Really?"_ He was fully laughing at that point, his Transfiguration essay completely forgotten. 

_"It only happened once!"_ Harry had exclaimed, glaring mockingly at the still laughing Slytherin, although he had been unable to ignore the warm feeling spreading through his chest at the sound of Malfoy's laugh echoing through their room. It definitely was one of his favourite sounds and he would love to hear it more often. 

A hand waved in front of Harry as he - once again - blinked his eyes a few times. "Hmm, what?" he asked confused. 

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy handed him a fancy-looking, brown quill. The feather gleamed gold in the morning sun coming through the vast window. "You're lucky I always have some spare quills", Malfoy said, stepping out of the room.

"Please try not to lose it this time", he continued. "I'm not going to keep letting you borrow mine otherwise." 

Harry waved away his words, determined to - for once - _really_ try to keep this quill. "Don't worry", he said, his green eyes twinkling slightly. "Go on now before you miss Potions. We all know your Slughorn's favourite." 

A half-hearted glare was sent his way as Malfoy started walking down the winding stairs. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Potter." 

And with that, the pale, blond head disappeared and Harry was left alone, standing on the small, dim landing. 

~*~

As said, Harry didn't turn up to any of his classes that day. 

In fact, no one had seen or heard from him since that morning and - to be completely honest - Hermione was starting to get quite worried by the time dinner came around. 

She had checked the library where Draco had told her Harry would be, but when she had arrived, he wasn't there... What if something had happened to him?

It hadn't gone unnoticed to her how much Harry had actually changed. Not only did he look thinner than he had ever been throughout the years, his behaviour had changed too. 

He had stopped hanging out with the three of them as much as they used to do so many times before. Instead, he had withdrawn more and more into himself, locking himself away from his best friends. 

She had also noticed how he seemed to space out during classes more often than not. Or how he didn't really laugh with the jokes their fellow Eighth Years made. Not to mention the times she had found him working on homework assignments even _she_ hadn't started yet. 

It were those small things about him - small things in his behaviour - that made the concern for her best friend grow each day as she watched him helplessly change into a shell of who he once was. 

And of course she had tried to help him. 

In the first few days back she had attempted to talk to him. She had tried to get him to open up about what was going on with him and what had happened over the summer. Yet the only thing she had gotten was a tired _"I'm fine"_ before he had walked to his room.

However, she hadn't missed the ways his eyes turned into hard emeralds. Or the way he had clenched his jaw, his features hardening as he built up strong walls around him to prevent anyone from getting through or from knowing the truth about what was _really_ going on inside his mind.

She wasn't stupid though. Even though she knew something was amiss, she hadn't tried again after that. If she had, she was sure it would have ruined their already fragile friendship. 

Though that didn't stop her from at least making sure he had eaten something every day, or trying to engage him in conversation in the common room, much to the boy's chagrin at times. 

Her attempts hadn't gone unnoticed by the others either and soon enough, almost all Eighth Years were following her lead. They talked to Harry occasionally, walking with him to classes or sharing some sweets they had bought in Hogsmeade the other day. The dynamics between all the Eighth Years had changed slightly from still being tentative towards each other to an unspoken camaraderie. 

Even Blaise and Pansy had managed to engage Harry into a few minutes of pointless conversation about what Professor Flitwick had been wearing the other day. Pansy couldn't stop laughing at the atrocious hat the older man had been wearing. Even Hermione had to admit it had been truly a horrendous sight to see. 

Hermione sighed, poking the last piece of potato on her plate. 

"Don't worry too much, Hermione", came a whisper from next to her as the brunette felt a hand being placed on her arm. "He'll be alright." 

She looked to her left and was met by the icy blue eyes of Pansy Parkinson staring worriedly into her own. 

Surprisingly, the girl hadn't been as bad as she first thought her to be. After apologising for what she had done a few months prior, she and Hermione had gotten along pretty well. 

Although sharing a room might have had something to do with it too. They had had more time to talk to each other than they normally would have and Hermione had to admit that having a female friend was a pleasant change for once. 

Pansy had given her some pretty good advice on how to tame her - although now less - curly hair and Hermione in exchange had helped the Slytherin girl with her Ancient Runes essay. 

"I'm not so sure about that, Pansy", Hermione sighed, pushing her plate away from her, closing the book in her lap. Reading now wouldn't do her any good. She would only start to worry more. "Nobody has seen him. What if-" 

"He'll be fine, 'Mione", Ron interrupted from opposite of her, his blue eyes looking sceptically at the four Slytherins next to them. 

Unlike the rest of the Eighth Years, Ron still didn't trust the five Slytherins that had returned. He had been rather rude to them, despite their attempts at helping his best friend. 

Eventually, Hermione had given up on arguing with her boyfriend about why the Slytherins _could_ be trusted. He would come around one day, she was sure of it. 

"Weasley might be right", Draco said, taking a green apple from the fruit basked. "Potter is perfectly capable of looking after himself. He's made that clear on multiple occasions." 

Blaise raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

Draco had been in a sour mood for most of the day, scowling at anybody who had tried talking to him. And by looking at his reaction now, Blaise realised it might have something to do with the Golden Boy. 

Perhaps something had happened between them? 

"So tell us Draco," the Italian spoke, steering the conversation in a different direction, "how has your mother been?" 

His tactic seemed to work as Draco's back straightened a little and his features relaxed slightly. "Very well actually", he began. "I've receive a letter this morning. Apparently my mother's sister Andromeda has been over to visit with my cousin Teddy." His eyes sparkled a little more at that. "They've made up over the summer and I think Mother couldn't have been happier to finally be reunited again with her lost sister." 

"Well, that's fantastic, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "She really deserves some happiness after everything she's been through." 

The people around them who were listening to the conversation nodded their heads. 

Even Hermione - who had only heard the things Harry had told her about Narcissa Malfoy and the trials before he had left the Burrow - nodded along, a small smile playing around her lips. 

"Who deserves some happiness?" a light, familiar voice asked from Draco's right. 

The blond turned his head and was greeted by the soft, chocolate curls of Astoria Greengrass, a beautiful smile lighting up her doll-like face. 

"Hullo Tori", Draco greeted, giving the girl a quick peck on the cheek after which she greeted the rest of the group with a wide smile and a polite nod. 

Three years ago, Lucius Malfoy had announced that Draco and Astoria were to get married once she became of age. 

Of course, Draco hadn't been at all pleased with the news, thinking Astoria would just be some stuck up pureblood girl who only wanted him for his family's wealth and name. But as some years had passed and they had gotten to know each other better, Draco had actually grown to like the girl and they had become quite close friends. You could say she was the sister he never had. 

Astoria wasn't like most of the other pureblood girls. She - unlike her parents and sister - didn't believe in the pureblood supremacy and traditions. 

So when they had first formally met each other - three years ago at Malfoy Manor - she hadn't been that excited either. She had been rather rude and slightly disrespectful towards the Malfoys - to great disgust of her parents. 

Draco, however, had been intrigued by the younger girl and when they were walking through the gardens of the manor later that afternoon, it hadn't taken them long to strike up an easy and comfortable conversation.

They couldn't remember a time where they had laughed that much, seeing as with the looming return of the Dark Lord back then, their families had been quite uptight. 

Later that day, they had decided to at least become friends, seeing as they were expected to spend a lot of time together in the future. 

From that moment, Draco had known he wouldn't actually mind being married to a strong minded woman like Astoria. She might have actually been one of the few good things his father had even done for him. 

But then everything had gone downhill with the start of the Second Wizarding War and Voldemort practically living at Malfoy Manor.

Draco had received his Dark Mark after which his mental health had worsened radically. There had been put a lot of pressure on his shoulders, so it didn't take long for him to collapse. 

Yet Astoria - the caring and stubborn girl she is - had always been there for him, helping wherever she could, even though her parents had forbidden her from ever speaking with him again. 

She had talked to Blaise and Pansy about what had happened and together they had helped him through the worst parts of it all, until he was able to go to an actual mind healer. 

They had encouraged him at times he thought he would have given up. They had held him as he cried into their shoulder at times where all the bottled up emotions came flooding out at once. They had even stayed awake the whole night with him when his nightmares had become so bad he was unable to fall back asleep. 

So really, he owned his life to all three of them. 

When the war had ended and Lucius had been taken to Azkaban, the Greengrass family had happily broken off the contract, claiming they didn't want one of their daughters married to a Death Eater.

Now both of them were free again to love - and perhaps eventually marry - the person they truly loved.

Still, they had sworn to each other to keep in touch and so they did. Draco couldn't have been more grateful for that. 

"So tell me, Draco," Astoria said, placing a small hand on his arm, her sweet smile never faltering, "how have you been?" 

The way she had asked the simple question made it look like she had only done it to be polite. But the three Slytherins - and Draco was sure even Theo - knew better. They could easily sense the hidden concern behind it and Draco couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. 

"I'm quite well actually", he replied, taking another bite from his forgotten, green apple. "How about you?" 

Beaming at the boy next to her, Astoria gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Very well actually. I'm glad you're okay though." 

"Please," Weasley gagged, a disgusted expression on his freckled face, "get a room if you're going to start snogging at the table. I would like to keep my appetite, thank you very much." He glared at the two Slytherins. 

Draco returned the glare, already opening his mouth to retort a nasty comment, but one look at Pansy's cautionary eyes, Blaise's raised eyebrows and Theo's slightly shaking head, made him close it again. 

Weasley hadn't done anything else but try to rile him up over the last weeks, trying to get under his skin and waiting for Draco to finally explode. Unfortunately for Weasley, he wasn't going to take the bait. 

"Ronald!" Granger scolded, an exasperated look visible in her warm, brown eyes. 

"It's alright, Hermione", Astoria interrupted the couple that was - once again - on the verge of starting an argument. She turned her attention to Draco again. "Maybe we should catch up another time?" she offered as she sent another dazzling smile Draco's way. 

Draco nodded, promising to talk to her soon as the girl made her way back towards the Slytherin table. 

Blaise's eyes followed the girl, narrowing them as he gazed over his friend's shoulder, glaring at something behind them. 

Draco raised his eyebrow in question. 

"I don't like the way her fellow Slytherin friends are looking this way", he explained, averting his gaze. "I don't trust them, Dray. You should be careful around them." 

The blond shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Blaise", he said. "I'll be just fine." Though he wasn't so sure about his words.

They had all noticed the antagonistic stares and whispers that were sent his way when they walked through the corridors of the castle. Sometimes a few students would even go as far as to throw a mild stinging hex his way.

Yet they all knew it wouldn't stay by only mild stinging hexes for long. 

~*~

The cold evening air blew through Harry's dark hair. He stared at the smooth surface of the Black Lake, absentmindedly throwing pebbles into the water and disturbing the calmness ever so slightly. 

The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the Scottish Hills, only a soft orange hue still visible from where he sat on the damp grass. 

He had been sitting in the same spot for the whole day instead of going to the library: underneath a large willow tree whose long branches were delicately touching the velvet-looking surface of the lake.

This must be one of his favourite places at Hogwarts so far. 

He loved how the branches hid him from sight. That way he could concentrate on his essays without being disturbed. He also loved the serenity the old tree seemed to emanate. It made him more relaxed than he had been for quite some time, effectively shutting out his horrible thoughts.

They had been running around in his head from the moment he had woken up, trying to drive him to his breaking point like they had done many times before. Not to mention the weird feelings he had been feeling recently towards a certain blond - and rather handsome - Slytherin. 

"What did those poor pebbles do to be treated so harshly? Have they offended you or something?" 

The soft voice of Ginny Weasley drifted through the silence as she sat down next to him, her arm slightly brushing against his own. Her brown eyes were looking out over the lake. 

"How did you know where I was?" Harry asked surprised. He hadn't expected Ginny to be the first one to find him. Knowing Hermione, he had expected her to be first. 

Ginny shrugged and turned her head his way, a sheepish smile grazing her soft, pink lips. "Luna's told me", she said. "I'd heard Hermione has been looking for you all day. So when I was... spending time with Luna, I asked her and she told me to find you here." She gestured around them. 

Harry shook his head, a fond smile appearing on his face. Of course Luna would know where he was. 

Silence fell between the two friends as they watched the Giant Squid poke its head above the surface of the lake. 

Harry had to admit, it felt rather nice. He had always liked that about his relationship with Ginny. Whenever he was around her, he didn't feel the need to fill up every moment with pointless small-talk, like many of his fellow year eights had been doing with him recently. 

No, instead they could sit in silence for hours without having to say anything to one another, simply enjoying the other's quiet yet amiable company. 

And he was glad that - although they weren't together anymore - things hadn't really changed between the both of them. 

The silence, however, was interrupted when Ginny spoke again. "I brought you some food", she said hesitantly, searching around in her bag before pulling out an - in napkin wrapped - piece of shepherd's pie. 

"I guessed you hadn't really eaten anything so I brought you this -" she handed him the food "- this way 'Mione won't kill you - or me for that matter - when she finds out you haven't eaten anything today." 

Harry silently took the offered piece, a thankful smile on his lips. "Thank you, Gin." 

They fell silent again, Harry happily munching on his pie. 

Ginny threw a pebble into the water before she turned to face him again, her eyebrows furrowed. "You know you can talk to us, right?" she asked carefully.

Nodding his head, Harry swallowed his bite of food. "Of course I know that." 

"Then why don't you do it?" 

Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I wish it were that easy, Gin." 

Ginny shook her head, a confused expression visible in her eyes. "I don't understand", she said, a frown appearing on her face. "We can all see that you're not fine, Harry. I don't understand why you keep pushing us away. Why you keep lying to yourself?" She tenderly touched his arm. "We're worried about you." 

Harry visibly flinched at that, causing Ginny to withdraw her hand. "I'm fine", he muttered lowly. "You don't have to worry about me. I've told all of you _so_ many times already." 

"You're not fine, Harry..." 

"Yes I am!" Harry suddenly shouted, causing a few birds - who had been sleeping peacefully up on the higher branches of the willow tree - to fly away. "Why can't anybody see that I don't need their bloody help? I can perfectly manage things on my own, thanks." 

An uncomfortable silence greeted the two friends.

Ginny honestly didn't know what to say anymore. She had tried talking to him many times over these two weeks of being back at Hogwarts, yet nothing seemed to work. 

"Have you thought about what I've said a few days ago?" she asked after a while. "About going to speak to someone? A Mind-Healer perhaps? They might actually be able to help you." 

"I do _not_ need help", Harry growled, his temper rising with every second. He turned his head away from the girl next to him, stubbornly staring back out over the lake. 

Sighing again, Ginny let her head fall onto her bent knees. "I'm not going to fight with you over this", she said defeated, her voice sounding muffled through the fabric of her dark jeans. "But I really want you to consider this, Harry. It might _really_ help you." 

Harry didn't answer, ignoring his friend. 

Honestly, why should he go see a mind-healer? He was perfectly fine. 

Seeing as she wasn't going to get any reaction out of him anymore, Ginny stood, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. "You know you can always talk to us. We're your friends after all", she whispered, a sad smile playing around her lips. 

"But I hope you change your mind about this", she continued. "Goodnight, Harry." 

She walked away, leaving the boy alone as he kept staring at the lake. He took some pebbles again and resumed his throwing them into the water. 

He wasn't going to get help.

He wasn't crazy.

He could perfectly manage things on his own. 

And most of all, he _really_ wanted everyone to just stop worrying about him! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. 25 September 1998

> _"The hardest part is letting go of your dreams."_
> 
> [ _My Chemical Romance - Sleep_ ](https://youtu.be/RSAoJJzVXYY)

**25 September 1998**

Miserable. 

A dark shadow hovering above you, clouding your view of reality. It leaves you feeling empty as loneliness slowly creeps through the cracks of your skin, swallowing the small bits of happiness on its path. 

Everything becomes dull and meaningless. It fills your mind your mind with questions: _"_ _Why am I still doing this? Why am I still here?_ _"_ You don't know the answers to them. The only thing you _do_ know is that you want it to stop. 

Harry was staring intently at the sentences he managed to scribble on the parchment in front of him. He couldn't help wondering why he was still doing this. Why was he still writing this bloody Potions essay? 

That morning, it had taken him quite some time to find the strength and willpower to get out of bed. By the time he had arrived at his first class of the day, all Eighth Years were already packing away their stuff to leave for the next lesson. 

Luckily Hermione - the good friend she is - had filled him in on what he had missed, which also included giving him a croissant from breakfast. 

Gratefully munching on the food, Harry had promised Hermione to be more on time for classes - much the same as Ron had done a few days prior. Still, the three friends knew Harry wouldn't be able to keep that promise. He had tried many times throughout the years, yet he never seemed to succeed. 

But that made him who he was and the Golden Trio wouldn't be the same if it was any other way. 

Or would it? 

Groaning, Harry leaned back into his chair, running a tired hand through his unruly hair. He hadn't written anything new in over half an hour. The only thing that _had_ appeared on the parchment were dark ink stains from where his - once again - borrowed quill had been hovering above it. 

He was never going to finish this Potions essay. Not if his mind kept carrying him away from the task at hand. 

A yawn escaped Harry's mouth. He was absolutely knackered. 

After using that Dreamless Sleep potion last week, he had vowed to himself he would lessen his consumption. He really didn't want to be addicted to something like that. He had worse things to worry about. 

Unfortunately, his decision to stop using the potion also meant his nightmares had returned - the very reason he had even started taking the potion in the first place. He had known from the moment he had closed his eyes to sleep, they would come back at full force. 

So, he had fallen back into the routine of avoiding sleep as much as he could. He would often do some homework or he busied himself with research; research that might come in handy if he was to accept Shacklebolt's and Robard's offer for him to become an Auror. 

However, on evenings like this one, where he couldn't focus on his essay for more than one minute - and he swore he just saw his parchment double in length of what he _actually_ had to write - he knew sleep was inevitable. 

Rubbing his eyes, he stared at his - still mostly empty - parchment, willing the essay to write itself. Maybe if he stared long enough he might also see double the amount he had already written. 

"That parchment is going to catch fire if you keep staring at it like that." 

The smooth voice of Draco Malfoy echoed through the silent room. A full plate of food was placed on the side of Harry's desk; the smell of his favourite foods filled his nose. 

At the confused look appearing on Harry's face, Malfoy spoke, "It's for you." 

He rummaged through a drawer in his own desk next to Harry's, pulling out his - what Harry thought to be - sketchbook and making his way to the window nearest to his bed, a piece of charcoal firmly clutched in his left hand. 

"Granger gave it to me", Malfoy continued when Harry shot him a questioning look. He sat down on the sill of the now open window, one of his legs dangling over the ledge. His sketchbook was perched against his other leg, a freshly lit cigarette placed between the fingers of his right hand. "She told me you skipped dinner today, as well as breakfast, and she asked me to give you that plate." He motioned his head towards the still full plate. "She also said - well, more like _threatened_ actually - I should make sure you actually eat it." 

The fuzzy feeling in Harry's chest he had been feeling lately returned, his lips twitching into a small, involuntary smile. "Are you sure it was Hermione's idea and not yours, though?" he asked. "Maybe you're just concerned about me? Maybe you actually _care_ about me? Oh!" - he gasped, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, his eyes wide - "Can you imagine! The great Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, caring about _me_ , the poor and miserable Chosen One?" 

With an elegant eyebrow raised, Malfoy turned his head to Harry from where he had been staring at his empty piece of parchment. He glared at the now laughing boy, though a faint blush coloured his pale cheeks. "Tell me Potter," he said, "why would I do something so Hufflepuff-like as _caring_ about someone, and about you, no less?" 

Both boys chuckled at that; the warmth in Harry's chest increasing. 

"Dunno", Harry said, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "But thanks for the food." 

Malfoy waved away the words. "Don't mention it", he said, taking a deep drag from the cigarette before looking back at Harry and the food on the plate. "Now eat", he said pointedly. A few lingering clouds of lingering smoke came out of his mouth and nose as he spoke, "I do not fancy force-feeding you like a baby." 

Harry huffed, raising an eyebrow in playful challenge. "Who are you to command me like that?" he smirked. "I don't recall agreeing to being bossed around." 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Of course", he ginned, his silver eyes locking with Harry's. "My apologies, your Majesty." 

Harry snorted, shaking his head. "I'll eat it later", he said, motioning to the plate. "After I've finished this essay." 

Silence filled the room as they turned their attention back to their own activities. Or at least, that was what Harry was _supposed_ to do. 

For about three minutes he managed to concentrate on his essay, scribbling down a few sentences that probably didn't have anything to do with the potion he was writing about. He didn't bother rereading what he had written down, however. His thoughts were too distracted. 

Every now and again, his eyes would wander to the other boy sitting in one of the two windows of their room. He was bent over his own parchment, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his tongue poking slightly between his lips. Every once in a while, he would look up and take a drag from his cigarette before turning back to his sketch, his piece of charcoal gliding smoothly over the parchment. 

The way his pale hair contrasted with the darkening sky outside and the stars becoming more visible, Harry was reminded of their first day of the school year. Malfoy had been sitting in the window too when Harry had arrived in their room - much the same as he was now.

Yet there was something different now. 

Now, Malfoy seemed more relaxed, more careless somehow. 

He slumped further against the wall, taking another drag from the cigarette and closing his eyes as he blew out the smoke, his head leaning against the wall behind him. He stayed like that for a few moments, just sitting there with his eyes closed, breathing in the late evening air. 

A small gust of wind blew inside the room, his platinum hair falling slightly in front of his eyes and Harry thought - in that moment - that Malfoy looked like he came straight out of one of the portraits spread around the castle. He looked like he was _glowing,_ the light of the room falling softly on the smooth, porcelain skin of his neck and face. 

_Truly gorgeous_ , Harry thought with a smile playing around the end of his lips. 

With a jolt he realised where his thoughts were going. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, knocking over his ink bottle in the process and spilling it all over his desk. Cursing loudly, he tried to save his barely started essay, but to no avail. The parchment had already soaked up a great deal of the black ink. Even a _Scourgify_ wouldn't be able to safe it anymore; his essay was ruined. He would have to start all over again. 

Bloody fantastic! 

~*~

Draco had opened his eyes at the sound of Potter cursing and struggling at his desk. He watched with amusement clear on his face as the other boy tried to save his essay only to see it soaking up the ink completely. He couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping his lips when he saw the devastated look in Potter’s forest green eyes. 

Potter turned towards the window, narrowing his eyes at Draco. "Stop laughing, you git", he grumbled. "Now I have to start all over again!" 

"Oh, you poor thing." Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to his sketch, smiling softly as he started to recognise the scene he'd chosen to draw. 

It was one of his happiest memories from when he was little. Him and his parents were happily sitting under one of the blossoming apple trees in the orchard, laughing and listening to stories Lucius was telling - probably about some fool he had met at the Ministry. 

Things were so much easier back then. 

He looked back up to see Potter staring at him, his head tilted in question. "Why are you smiling like that?" The annoyance from before seemed to be completely gone. 

"Nothing you have to worry about", Draco said. "I just thought about something, nothing else." 

"So you weren't laughing at my misfortune?" 

Draco huffed, amusement visible in his silver eyes. "That as well", he smirked. "But it wasn't the only thing that made me smile. Because, sadly Potter, not everything revolves around you." 

Potter stood up from his desk and walked towards him, a predatory smile on his lips as his gaze shifted to the sketchbook still perched against one of his legs. "Care to share what it was that made you smile?" 

"Not really." 

Shaking his head, Draco closed his book with a loud _thud,_ suddenly becoming aware how close Potter was actually standing. He didn't like people standing so close to him. Not after... 

No! No, no, no, no... He wasn't doing this again. 

"Oh come on, Malfoy!" Potter whined, taking yet another step closer. 

Draco felt his chest tightening, his breath speeding up a little more. Although the little voice in his head was jumping up and down in excitement at the rather close proximity.   
  
Why was this so confusing? 

"You've made me curious now." 

Shaking his head furiously, Draco clutched his book to his chest, his gaze fixated on a spot on the ground. A lump had formed in his throat, his mind focusing on everything around him. 

He didn't want to show his sketches. Not yet, at least. He didn't want Potter to know everything and ruin the fragile friendship - if he could even call it that - that they had formed so far. 

Though his mind was screaming at him to get out, his heart desperately wanted him to enjoy this moment, standing so close to Harry _bloody_ Potter. 

"Potter, I..." 

He cursed the slight tremble in his voice. 

Potter must have finally noticed Draco's discomfort as he took a few steps backwards, his eyes looking at Draco with concern. "Are... Are you alright?" 

Draco nodded, standing up and walking towards his desk where he safely put away his sketchbook. He wobbled slightly on his feet as he stumbled to their wardrobe, taking a pair of his pyjamas. All the while he could feel Potter's concerned gaze following him around. 

"I'm going to bed", Draco said softly, his gaze fixed on the door to the bathroom, closing it behind him and leaving a very confused Potter staring after him. 

~*~

Sometime along the night, Harry had ended up in the common room.

He couldn't quite remember _when_ he had decided to give up on his Potions essay, but somehow he found himself sitting in his favourite golden armchair near the fire in the now empty common room. 

He stared at the dancing flames of the fire whilst trying his best to stay awake. He couldn't fall asleep here in the common room. He couldn't risk waking all the other Eighth Years with his screams when he had yet another one of his pathetic nightmares. 

No, he would just stay awake for another night. Tomorrow he would get some sleep between classes or during breaks. Maybe he might actually take another Dreamless Sleep, despite his promise to himself. 

He never had been good at keeping promises anyway. 

The longer he stared at the flames, the heavier his eyes became. So, he decided to go on a stroll around the castle, hoping it would wake him up enough to prevent himself from falling asleep on the spot. 

As he stepped out the portrait, however, an ominous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. His instincts were screaming at him to turn back; to return to the safety of the common room. 

Something was wrong. 

Closing the portrait behind him, Harry was surprised to find it empty. 

It wasn't supposed to be empty, though. McGonagall had made sure of that after poor Neville had been locked out the common room on one particular night a few days ago. It had been Filch who had found him after Peeves had gone through the corridors yelling about some students out of bed. 

McGonagall had been furious when she had heard the story.

If only Godric and Salazar would stop being two children and _talk_ to each other like adults to solve their problems instead of screaming bloody murder at each other. Since the two ladies had some business to attend to somewhere else in the castle, Godric and Salazar were supposed to guard the entrance together that night. Yet the two men had ended up fighting once again, both of them leaving the portrait to cool down somewhere else. 

It hadn't happened since then, so seeing the portrait empty now... Something was definitely off. 

The corridors were dark as he meandered his way through, much darker than normal. He could hardly see anything in front of him and he had already managed to trip over some invisible rock three times in less than one minute. 

He hadn't thought of bringing his Invisibility Cloak with him, so he couldn't risk using _Lumos_ and getting caught by a teacher or prefect. He has had enough detentions to last him a lifetime, thank you very much. 

So here he was, trying to find his way through the maze of corridors in the enormous castle without so much as a light to guide him. Even the moon he had seen earlier through one of the windows in his room was gone, hidden behind the large mess of dark clouds. 

The sudden sound of someone sniffling filled the otherwise silent corridor.

Harry stopped walking, lifting his wand as if to attack the first person or thing that jumped around the corner. 

Another sniffle could be heard, followed by quietly whispered words. 

Harry pricked up his ears, trying to catch any other sound, but to no avail. Everything was quiet again; the only things audible were his own breathing and hammering heartbeat. 

Uncertain of what he might find around the corner, he tightly gripped his wand and shuffled forward. 

What he found though, made him drop his hand, his wand falling to the floor with a loud clatter. 

There - right in front of him - stood the Weasleys in a half-circle, surrounding the unmoving body of none other than Fred Weasley. 

Mrs. Weasley was sitting on the ground, cradling the head of her lost son in her lap as tears streamed freely down her face. Her loud sobs filled the quiet of the night. 

Next to her, Mr Weasely sat, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

The other Weasleys were hurled together, trying to find some sort of comfort in each other. Even Hermione stood between them, tightly clinging to Ron who had his strong arms safely wrapped around her trembling frame. 

Harry rushed to the family he called his own and dropped down on his knees next to Fred. Tears were already streaming down his face. 

"I'm so sorry, Fred", he whispered, his whole body shaking like a leaf in a storm. 

This was all his fault. He was responsible for this; just like he was responsible for all the others too.

_My fault._

_My fault._

The heavy weight of a hand on his shoulder startled him, his head turning to where the hand's owner stood. 

Cold, blue eyes stared back at him. "We don't want you here, Harry", Ron said, his voice as chillingly cold as his eyes. 

Harry shook his head. Surely he must have misheard his best friend? They were _his_ family too. Why would they suddenly not want him anymore? 

"What do you mean?" 

"Don't act as if you didn't mean for this to happen, Harry! This is all your fault!" 

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

Ron's hand squeezed his shoulder painfully hard as Harry stood up from his crouched position on the ground, turning his back to the body lying on the ground. 

They really didn't want him anymore. The people he had started seeing as his own family didn't want him anymore. 

This was all his fault; all the deaths were his fault. Fred's death, Remus' and Tonks' deaths. Even Sirius' and his parents' deaths were all because of him. If only he had been faster, if only he hadn't been alive... 

_My fault._

_My fault._

Taking a step in the direction he had come from, Harry shook Ron's hand from his shoulder, retrieving his wand from the ground. "I'm sorry", he whispered, his voice wavering slightly. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I really wish things could've ended better." 

Mrs. Weasley let out a heart-breaking sob at that, her shoulders shaking violently as she stroked the ginger hair of her son. 

George emerged from between his brothers, stepping towards Harry. "Ron is right." His voice sounded hoarse as he met Harry's gaze, a haunted look clearly visible through all the grief in his eyes. "You should go." 

Every word felt like a heartless punch to Harry's face. Realisation slowly made its way through the haziness that was his mind. "George, I-" 

George held up his hand, stopping Harry from whatever he was about to say. "Save it, Harry", he mumbled. "I don't want to hear it." 

"Just go, Harry", Hermione said quietly, coming to stand next to her boyfriend, whom took her into his arms again. "You're only making it worse for everyone." 

Harry looked around the other Weasleys, his eyes landing on Ginny. She stood quietly between Percy and Charlie, the latter tightening his protective arm around his sister as he glared daggers in Harry's direction. Ginny's usually bright brown eyes met his briefly before she looked away from him again as if ashamed. 

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

Nodding his head, Harry turned around and slowly made his way down the corridor from where he came, lingering for a moment in the hope they would call him back and tell him it was all a joke; a joke the Weasley twins had come up with. 

They would all laugh at Harry's expression and the fact that he actually believed what they had said. They would all have a good laugh and Fred would stand up from the ground and hug his brother tightly with tears of laughter running down their faces. 

But none of that happened. 

All hope of them joking was lost as Harry turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. He walked, farther and farther away, past the still empty portrait to the Eighth Year common room. 

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

The Weasleys didn't want him anymore. The people he had considered as family hated him. The friends he had fought a war with, friends who had seen him at his worst and even then refused to leave his side... gone. 

All gone. 

He had nothing left now.

He was all alone.

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fa-_

~*~

Draco was rudely awoken by the sound of something heavy falling on the ground. Still half-asleep, he sat up in his bed, trying to find whatever it was that had fallen down. It was dark in the room and his tired eyes had trouble focusing on anything. 

Nevertheless, he managed to spot the blurry shape of a blob on the ground near Potter's desk; a blob that was moving rather weirdly. 

The sound of ragged breathing reached his ears, coming from the direction of the blob.

It didn't take him long to put the pieces together. The blob wasn't actually a blob, the blob was Potter sitting on the ground next to his fallen chair. He was clearly having trouble breathing; Draco would have recognised that sound from anywhere. 

Taking his wand and whispering _Lumos_ , he made his way over the trembling boy on the ground.

Potter had curled up into a ball, his legs tangled in the blanket Draco had placed around him when he had fallen asleep at his desk. Tears were streaming down his face and he was staring at the wall in front of him, a faraway look in his emerald green eyes. His hands were trembling furiously. His chest was rising and falling quickly in time with his heavy, short breaths. 

Draco was sure he hadn't even noticed him approaching. 

Crouching down next to his dorm mate, Draco carefully laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Potter started at that, big, green doe-eyes staring at him, unseeing. From this close Draco could clearly see the panic in them. 

He squeezed his shoulder softly. "Harry?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?" 

The two boys stared at each other for a long while before Potter nodded his head slightly. The movement seemed to be one of the hardest movements he had ever done - if the jerkiness of his nod was anything to go by. 

Draco nodded too, a small reassuring smile grazing his lips. _At least he hears me_ , Draco thought, _that's a good start._

He knew what he had to do next. Healer Glover had prepared him many times for moments like this, yet most time he had to do it for himself as he fought his way through a panic attack of his own. "You'll be okay, Harry", he said, squeezing his shoulder again. "You'll be okay. I'm here." 

Again, Potter nodded, his unfocused gaze never leaving Draco's. The panic was still very apparent in the depths of his green eyes, his breathing never slowing down and his hands still shaking violently. 

"Okay," Draco continued, "I want you to listen to my voice and do as I say. Do you think you'll manage to do that, Harry?" 

It took slightly longer this time before Harry replied - once again - by nodding his head. 

Careful not to make anything worse, Draco moved his hand from Harry's shoulder to his shaking hands, taking them into his own to steady them.

He deliberately ignored the small flutter in his chest as Harry didn't reject the contact, telling himself he was only doing it for the sake of the boy and not himself. The contact would help in keeping Harry grounded enough to think... hopefully. 

"Alright, Harry", Draco said gently, his thumbs stroking over the back of Harry's hands in a slow rhythm. "I want you to name five things you can see." 

Harry blinked slowly, opening his mouth to answer, but the only thing that came out was a choked sob. He closed his mouth again, his breathing quickening slightly and new tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

"Hey, hey, it's alright", Draco said quickly, squeezing Harry's hands, his thumbs never stopping their movements. "Try to take deep breath first. There's no need to rush anything, okay? Take your time to reply." 

Draco waited patiently as Harry tried to get his breathing somewhat under control. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse, "Light, the ground, darkness, the moon and silver eyes." 

Squeezing the other boy's hands again, Draco nodded. "Now, name four things you can touch." 

This time, the reply came a little faster. "Wood, blanket, your hands and clothes." 

"Three things you can hear." 

"Your voice, owls and footsteps." 

By now, Harry's breathing had considerably calmed down, yet Draco could still feel the slight shaking of the hands he held in his own, the panic still brewing in those wide, emerald eyes. 

"Two things you can smell." 

Harry sniffed, wiping his nose at the sleeve of his jumper. "Shampoo and... apples?" 

Draco huffed a laugh at the confused look that slowly replaced the panic in Harry's eyes. He smiled, proud at his accomplishment. "And lastly, name one thing you can taste." 

It was quiet for some time. Harry was staring at their - by now - intertwined fingers. Draco's thumbs were still moving in slow circles over the back of his hands. 

"Treacle tarts", Harry whispered softly, a smile grazing his lips. 

He looked up at Draco, his smile widening. His hands had almost completely stopped shaking, his breathing had evened out and he was leaning slightly against Draco. 

Despite his reaction earlier that evening at Harry's close proximity, Draco now found himself to actually enjoy it. He relished in the warmth of Harry's body and how perfectly it fitted against his own. 

Harry's head fell against Draco's shoulder, his breathing becoming even more regular as he closed his eyes. 

"Hey, I know you're tired, but you can't fall asleep here", Draco said, shaking his shoulder so Harry's head fell off it. 

"Hmmmm, but I'm comfortable like this", Harry slurred, his voice heavy with sleep as he struggled to stay awake. 

"Yeah well...", Draco said. "I'm not. So, come on, you leech, we'll get you to bed." 

He stood up, untangling himself - much to the other boy's protest - and holding out his hands for Harry to take. Harry looked at them warily for a moment, an unreadable look in his bottle green eyes, but took them either way, letting himself be pulled up by the blond. 

They walked the small distance to the golden bed. Harry happily crawled under the covers, not even bothering to change into his pyjamas. He nuzzled his head in his pillow, sniffing the familiar scent of his own shampoo. "Thank you, Draco", he mumbled, a tired smile lifting the corners of his lips. 

Draco, who had already turned around and walked the three steps towards his bed, looked back at the half-asleep boy and smiled back. "Of course", he whispered. "Anytime... Harry." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	6. 26 September 1998

> _"I see a pain behind your eyes."_
> 
> [ _As It Is - The Stigma (Boys Don't Cry)_ ](https://youtu.be/SxV1Jwg9xCk)

**26 September 1998**

It was already late in the afternoon of the following day when Harry joined his year mates in the common room. He had lost track of time when he was rewriting his Potions essay, causing him to miss both breakfast and lunch - much to the disapproval of Hermione. 

She had come up to his room after lunch with a large plate full of food and had placed it in the middle of his desk, preventing him from adding any more sentences to his already hopeless essay. She had determinedly taken place on Draco's desk next to his, her arms crossed and a pointed look in her brown eyes, wordlessly telling Harry she wouldn't leave before all the food on the plate was gone. 

Not wanting to risk having an upset Hermione Granger, Harry obediently ate all the food, thanking her kindly as he ate the last crumbs of the treacle tart on his plate. 

Though he hated how concerned she could be at times, he also couldn't help but be grateful for her perceptiveness. Without it they wouldn't have come as far as they had now. It had saved them multiple times over the years. 

After the plate was completely empty, Hermione had taken his essay and had read over what he had already written - not that there was much to be proud of. However, she had helpfully corrected any spelling mistakes and had made some notes in the margin for things he could add or things that weren't completely right. 

When she had given it back to him, Harry had thanked her once again, offering her his help whenever she would need it. She had shaken her head, a fond smile playing around her lips before saying, _"Don't worry about. That's what friends are for._ " 

She had left without waiting for a response, taking the empty plate back down with her. 

Reluctantly, Harry had turned back to his essay, taking a new parchment to restart once more. Luckily, thanks to Hermione's help, his essay would at least be Acceptable now. 

Maybe Slughorn won't lose hope just yet... 

The happy chatter of the students down in the common room already met him halfway down the stairs. 

Normally, at the sound of so many people in there at once, Harry would turn around and head back up to his room. Now, on the other hand, he couldn't be bothered. After staring at a piece of parchment for several hours on end, he was happy he could finally do something else; even if that meant spending a few hours in the crowded common room talking to people and wishing it wouldn't drain as much of his energy as it did nowadays. 

Like every Saturday afternoon, almost every Eighth Year student had taken refuge in the circular room talking to friends, reading a book, studying for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s at the end of the school year or simply lazing around in one of the many armchairs or couches spread around the room.

It had quickly become an unspoken tradition to spend their Saturday afternoon down there with friends. Even some lowers years, who had friends amongst the Eighth Years, were present from time to time. 

Harry walked down the last stair and started meandering his way through the packed room towards one of the empty armchairs near the fireplace; the one he almost always sat in. 

"Well, look who finally chose to bless us with his presence!" Seamus exclaimed from one of the armchairs at the opposite side of the room with a content and half-asleep Dean in his lap. "If it isn't our Saviour!" 

"Oh, do shut up, Seamus", Harry laughed softly, sending a half-hearted glare in the other boy's direction. A few chuckles could be heard around the room. 

Luckily, most of his year mates didn't spare him another glance. He was glad they were slowly starting to see him as one of them instead of the 'celebrity' most of the other people in Wizarding Britain saw him for. After all, he only wanted to finish his education after the unfortunate events the year prior, just like the rest of them. 

The other students of Hogwarts, however - mostly the younger years - didn't seem to have the same mindset. They would squeal or giggle whenever he looked in their direction, doing everything they could to get his attention. Some even swarmed him, asking for autographs or pictures or they kept thanking him for saving one of their relatives Harry didn't even know had fought in the war too. 

Not to mention all the utter rubbish the Daily Prophet published about him every day. From rumours about his love life - because apparently he had a love life _without_ him knowing - to articles about what he ate on a daily basis and lists of his favourite foods - foods he sometimes didn't even know existed. 

At moments like that he wished people would stop seeing him as the hero he might be. He wished they would stop invading his _privacy_ and just. Leave. Him. Alone. 

He wished the students would stop spying on him or watching his every move in order to sell the information to that damned newspaper. Even McGonagall's warning a few days prior clearly hadn't done anything - if the newspaper issue from that morning was anything to go by. 

Why couldn't they just leave him be for once? Who even cared about what type of aftershave he used in the morning? Or what brand of toothpaste he had? Or - even worse - if he slept _naked_ or not? 

Sighing exasperatedly, Harry fell down in the armchair, swinging his legs over the back. 

"You don't look so happy, Harry", Neville noted, looking up at him from his place on the ground next to the coffee table. Hannah Abbott was sitting next to him, a large book of Herbology in front of the two.

Harry couldn't quite decipher what they were reading about. He never had been good at reading upside-down anyways. 

"Is something bothering you?" Neville continued. 

Hermione, who was sitting in the armchair next to Harry's, snorted and looked up from the large leather-bound book she was reading. "Of course not", she said with an amused twinkle in her brown eyes. "He's just being dramatic for no reason." 

"What?" Harry said, shooting a glare in Hermione's direction. "I'm _not_ being dramatic." 

"Mhm", Hermione hummed, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're not." She went back to her book, ignoring Harry's spluttering of protest. 

"You know," Pansy started from her place on the couch on the other side of Harry's armchair, "I have to agree with Granger for once." 

"What?" Harry repeated, glancing at the four Slytherins on the couch - well, three on the couch and one in front. 

Pansy rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face. "You've heard me, Potter. I've noticed that every day, you're becoming more and more dramatic. Perhaps the Slytherin you're sharing a room with is rubbing off on you." 

Draco, who had been sitting on the ground in front of the couch while Pansy was running her fingers through his hair, turned around and glared at his friend. "Excuse me?" he said, narrowing his eyes as the smirk on the girl's face grew bigger. 

"Oh, don't be so sour, darling", Pansy grinned, patting his head a few times. "We all know you're our one and only Drama Queen and _nobody_ would be surprised if you chose _Potter_ as your King." 

Harry choked on his own saliva, spluttering and coughing his lungs out as he sat upright, Hermione patting him on the back with an amused smile tugging at her lips. 

Draco, on the other hand, had flushed a deep scarlet, the tips of his ears burning as he shot Pansy another glare, her shoulders shaking with mirth. 

Both Theo and Blaise - sitting on the couch next to Pansy - snickered quietly, exchanging knowing looks. 

"I have no idea what's going on", Neville muttered, shaking his head at the group. He had been half-following the conversation whilst explaining to Hannah what the pros and cons were of Devil's Snare. Still, he had no idea what to make of what just happened. More than anything, it left him more confused than before. 

Hannah chuckled, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Nev", she said. "You'll understand eventually." 

Neville opened his mouth to ask what she meant by that, but was rather rudely interrupted by the yelling of some students on the opposite side of the common room. 

"Come on, Dean! I didn't mean it like that. You know that." Seamus sounded desperate as he tried to grasp his boyfriend's hand. 

Dean snatched his hand away, standing up from the chair and glaring at Seamus. "You didn't mean it?! Well, it sure as hell sounded like you did! You know I don't like it when you talk about that!" he exclaimed, his hands flailing around wildly. "You have no idea what I've had to endure in those months I've been on the run! The things that have happened are no things to joke about! And you bloody well know that. We've talked about it enough for you to remember." He turned around and went to walk to his room, but a hand wrapped itself around his wrist, pulling him back until he rested against Seamus' lean chest. 

"I'm sorry Dean", Seamus said softly, though it sounded loud in the silence that had fallen over the common room. "I know I shouldn't have said that. I'm really sorry." 

Dean looked up at his boyfriend, a lone tear streaming down his flushed cheeks. 

Seamus wiped it away with his thumb, cupping his cheek. He leaned forward and kissed the other boy, Dean responding by wrapping his arms around Seamus' neck and pulling him closer. 

"Oh, get a room you two!" Theo exclaimed, an annoyed look visible in his dark eyes. "I have to see enough of that as it is." 

The couple broke apart, smiles plastered across their faces. Seamus turned to Theo. "Would you rather walk in on us again then?" 

His cheeks flushing pink, Theo turned back to his staring contest with the flames in the fireplace, ignoring the snickers around the room. 

The portrait of the common room suddenly opened and in stepped a grinning Ronald Weasley. His hair was a mess as if he had been running his hand through it multiple times and his cheeks were slightly more pink, making the freckles on top look like tiny, dark ink stains. 

He walked towards where Harry and Hermione were sitting and sat down next to his girlfriend on the armrest of her chair. "I have some exciting news", he announced loud enough for the whole common room to hear. "I've just come back from talking to Headmistress McGonagall-"

"I can't imagine a conversation with McGonagall being exciting", Blaise commented, marking the page in his book where he had stopped reading. To Harry's surprise it was a muggle book; one he had read himself, though he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was about. Something that had to do with a young man who moved to a rich part on Long Island and a weird neighbour who was obsessed with the young man's cousin. Or was he in love with her?

Either way, Harry didn't really enjoy it. The book was far too confusing. 

Ron glared at his dorm mate. "Maybe you should let me explain first", he said. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before continuing, "As you all know the Eighth Years are kind of a separate house, right?" 

Most Eighth Years nodded or murmured a _'yes',_ so Ron continued once again, "Well, every house has its own Quidditch Team and since we can't play on the teams of the other houses, I thought it would be nice if we had our own Quidditch Team." 

"Our own Quidditch Team? Like the Eighth Year Quidditch Team?" Terry Boot asked, his dark eyes wide with excitement.

Ron nodded, smiling as the common room exploded in loud, enthusiastic chatter and laughter. 

Harry balled his fists and clenched his jaw, trying very hard to stay calm in the suddenly far too loud room. His hands had started shaking and his breath became uneven as he fought his way through whatever was happening to him. 

As his breaths slowed down and he looked around the room in hope that nobody had noticed his little episode, he found a pair of silvery grey eyes staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Draco raised an eyebrow in question, concern flashing through his eyes before it disappeared again, hidden behind his mask of indifference. 

They hadn't had the chance to talk after what had happened the night before. Though Harry was glad Draco didn't act weird about it. Nothing had really changed between them - not that there was much to change to begin with. Nevertheless, Harry liked to believe they had grown a little closer - if only by a few baby steps. 

The now familiar warm, fuzzy feeling spread around in his chest, causing his cheeks to redden a little underneath the still questioning gaze of the blond. Harry shook his head, offering the other boy a - what he hoped to be - reassuring smile. 

Draco didn't really look convinced, though he nodded and returned his attention to what was happening around them. His lips curved in a content smile as Pansy resumed her massaging of his scalp. He leaned more into her touch, his eyes closing momentarily. 

It wasn't often Harry got to see the Slytherin so relaxed. He liked this side of him better. It made him look younger. It even made him look kind of... cute. 

"Harry? Are you even listening?" Ron asked from the armchair next to his. 

Harry looked around him. Most eyes were directed towards him. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked, his cheeks flushing slightly again at all the attention he was getting. They had probably asked him something important whilst he had been too busy staring at Draco bloody Malfoy... again. 

The chatter and laughter had quietened relatively quickly as they were all awaiting Harry's answer. 

"We asked you if you wanted to become captain of our Quidditch Team, Potter", Pansy drawled. "Maybe if you would stop daydreaming about Draco over here, you would have actually heard what we were talking about." 

Harry looked down at his lap, his cheeks flushing even more as he ignored the smug expression crossing the girl's face. 

Glaring at Pansy, Ron opened his mouth to probably say something that would make things worse, but was stopped by Hermione as she quickly placed a hand over his mouth, whispering something in his ear that made the tips of his ears go red. 

"Well then, Harry? Do you want to be our captain or not?" Ernie Macmillan asked impatiently. 

"Oh, uhm..." A sheepish smile appeared on his face as he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, as much as I would be honoured to be our captain, I don't think I'm the right person to do that right now." 

"What?" Ron asked, his eyes wide in shock. "You can't be serious, mate! Back in sixth year you were the best captain Gryffindor had ever had!" 

Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "I'm sure there were better captains than me. I mean we've had Wood and-" 

"Wood?!" Ron exclaimed. "The only thing _Wood_ thought about was winning that damned cup! Fred and George were always complaining and making jokes about his obsession with winning. I'm fairly certain that if he could, the bloke would have married the bloody cup long ago." 

"But we did win the cup, didn't we?" 

"Well yes, eventually, but-"

"Boys!" Hermione interrupted, exasperation now clearly visible in her brown eyes. "Will you both shut up for one moment. You can continue this argument later." 

"Oh, come on, Granger. You have to admit it was becoming rather exciting", Pansy smirked, winking at the two boys in question. "I bet you it wouldn't have taken much longer until they would have started a good ol', traditional fistfight." 

Harry raised an eyebrow as Ron's face reddened dangerously, his eyes narrowing and a finger pointing to the Slytherin. "Listen here you b-" 

"Anyways!" Seamus quickly said, effectively cutting off a very angry-looking Ronald Weasley before everything exploded. "Harry, perhaps you have someone in mind who can be captain then?" 

Harry thought for a moment. He immediately thought of Ron and knew he would be a great captain if he really wanted to. He just needed a little push to boost his confidence and everything would be alright. 

"If I have to choose someone, I would go for Ron", Harry said. "He's the one that came up with the idea, after all." 

Surprised at what his best friend had said, Ron turned on the chair, all anger and hatred he had been feeling a few seconds ago disappearing immediately. Slowly but surely, a smile grew on his still slightly red face. 

"Me?" he asked, disbelief audible in his wavering voice. "But I was awful a few years ago. Why would I be a good captain, _now?"_

"Yeah," Blaise quipped, "do we need to remind you of the beautiful song we wrote?" 

“ _Weasley is our king.”_ Pansy and Theo started to sing, Blaise following not long after.

“ _Weasley is our king.”_

“ _He always lets the Quaffle in.”_

“ _Weasley is our king.”_

"Yes, okay, we get it", Harry said, scowling at the three Slytherins. Honestly, they were being extra insufferable today. 

He spared a glance at Ron, who looked ready to explode again. "I still think we should give Ron a chance." 

The low buzz of discussing murmurs filled the silence. "I don't think Ron being captain is such a bad idea", Anthony Goldstein spoke up, his voice just barely audible above the rather loud murmurs. 

"Are you completely off your rocker, Goldstein", Theo said, giving the Ravenclaw an incredulous look. "Weasley wouldn't be able to hold our team together for more than five seconds." 

"Says the one who probably won't even try out to be on the Quidditch Team anyway", Justin Finch-Fletchley joined in. Theo ignored him. 

Anthony rolled his eyes at the Slytherin. "I still think we should give him a chance. We can always choose another captain if really necessary." 

"Guys," Ron muttered under his breath, "I'm right here, you know."

Terry waved his comment away. "Yes, yes, we know, Weasley", he said. "Now, are there any more objections?" 

Nobody said anything, so Terry continued, "Very well then. Congrats, Ron! You're our new Quidditch captain." 

A small round of congratulations went around the room. Ron smiled widely, thanking everyone. 

It had been quite a long time since Harry had seen his best friend as happy as he was now. His heart contracted painfully as thoughts of his nightmare from last night resurfaced. The cold look in Ron's normally light blue eyes, the painfully tight grip he had had on his shoulder, the rude words he had spoken before Harry had left... 

Shaking his head, Harry tried to clear his mind, refocusing on the conversation around him. 

"How are we going to determine who gets which position on the team, though?" Hannah asked from her place on the ground next to Neville. Harry noticed they were sitting closer than before. 

Everyone looked expectantly at Ron, whose cheeks slowly flushed a light pink at the sudden attention he got. "Uhm... I uhm... We could... I mean if it's...", Ron stammered, running his hands repeatedly through his flaming red hair. He groaned in frustration at his own inability to form a coherent sentence. 

"We can organise try-outs", he eventually managed to say. 

"Try-outs?" Harry asked. "Aren't we with too few people to do try-outs?" 

A quiet chuckle could be heard from the ground in front of the couch. "What's wrong?" Draco asked, catching Harry's gaze, challenging him. "Scared, Potter?" 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin, a playful yet determined smirk placed on his face. "Pfft, you wish, Malfoy." 

"Alright then", Ron said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Harry flinched at the sound of one of his joints popping loudly next to his ear. "McGonagall said we're allowed to have two players of each house on the team. Something about more unity, I assume. So everyone who wants to try out, I will meet you next Saturday morning at ten o'clock sharp after breakfast on the Quidditch pitch."

"Why not earlier than Saturday?" Parvati Patil asked. "We're already running behind on the other house teams." 

Ron nodded. "I know, but I want everyone who wants a position to at least have a week's time to practice since I'm sure a lot of you haven't really played much Quidditch last year." 

Different kinds of affirmative answers could be heard around the room. 

"Are there any more questions?" Ron asked lastly. 

As nobody made a move to ask anything, Ron clapped his hands. "Alright then, that's settled." He turned to Hermione, lowering his voice slightly to whisper in her ear. "McGonagall also wanted to speak to the both of us." 

Hermione look up from her book, her head tilted in silent question. "The both of us? Why would she want to talk to us? We haven't done anything wrong, have we?" 

"No, of course not, 'Mione", Ron said, leaning closer to whisper something in her ear, though Harry could still hear it loud and clear. "It has something to do with Head Boy and Head Girl", he smiled. "She has been so busy she had forgotten to assign them in the beginning of the year." His lips lingered a moment longer next to her ear, nibbling softly. 

Pressing a hand against her mouth, Hermione marked the page where she had stopped reading and pushed Ron away gently, mouthing the word ' _later_ '.

Harry shivered at the thought of what they might do ' _later_ '. 

They both stood up from their places on the armchair and turned to Harry. "Will you be alright without us?" Hermione asked, giving him a gently smile as she tried to hide the obvious blush on her cheeks. 

Harry nodded, a smile of his own tugging at the end of his lips. "Of course, 'Mione", he said. "I've been through worse." 

They nodded and waved goodbye before walking to the portrait. "We'll see you at dinner mate!" Ron said over his shoulder before the portrait closed behind them. 

As Harry swung his legs back over the back of the armchair, he scanned the upside-down common room, noticing a pair of grey eyes looking in his direction, once again. 

Draco's questioning gaze had returned, but yet again Harry shook his head, giving the blond a tentative smile. "I'm fine", he mouthed. 

Rolling his eyes, Draco's lips turned into a smile of his own. He locked gazes again with Harry for a moment and then winked at him before returning to something Pansy had said. 

Eyes widening and breath catching, Harry looked at the Slytherin in complete shock. Draco had winked at him; he had _winked_ at Harry.

And in an overcrowded common room nonetheless! Everybody could have seen! 

Bloody hell, that boy did things to his heart Harry had never felt before. Not to mention the warm, fuzzy feeling that was slowly travelling southwards - or was it northwards now that he was lying upside-down? 

He might need to take a cold shower before he went to dinner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my [Instagram](https://instagram.com/cluelesspigeons?igshid=1sdbxd2lm8vj5) and stay updated for future uploads and even other works! 
> 
> Also, I would love to know what you thought of the chapter this time! :)


	7. 3 October 1998

> _"My anxiety creeps inside of me."_
> 
> [ _Royal & The Serpent - Overwhelmed _ ](https://youtu.be/_e7UYTY96Xs)

**3 October 1998**

"Chocolate Biscuit." 

With a loud _woosh,_ the portrait swung open, revealing the corridor outside the Eighth Year common room. It was cold in the castle, the stinging autumn air coming through unrepaired cracks in the ancient castle walls. 

Draco shivered as he walked out the common room, already dreading the winter that was just around the corner. He preferred the long, hot days of summer. Days where he could sit outside underneath one of the tall trees in the garden of the Manor, reading books or sketching his surroundings, smelling the sweet air around him filled with the scent of blooming flowers. 

At some occasions, his mother would sit with him, her bright robes blending beautifully with all the different types of flowers around them. They would talk about things that had happened at the Manor or they would sit in peaceful silence, relishing in the beauty and the warmth of the earth. 

Yes, he preferred summer far more than the cold and dark winter. 

"And where are you going, young man?" a deep familiar voice called from behind Draco. 

Turning around, he came to stand face to face with the portrait that guarded the entrance to the common room. Salazar Slytherin stared down his long nose at him, his lips curling into a menacing sneer. 

If Draco hadn't known the man from his time down in the dungeons, he would have said his face looked like he had just eaten a whole lemon. Draco didn't think there were many people who would manage to look like _that_ and still be threatening at the same time. Though Salazar did seem to be a natural at that, since Draco had never seen him without that sneer on his pale face. 

"I think that question answers itself, Sir", Draco replied, gesturing to his old, green Quidditch robes he was wearing and the broomstick firmly held in his hand. 

His cold eyes roaming Draco up and down, Salazar sniffed disdainfully, his lips once again curling into a sneer. "Ah yes", he drawled lazily, lifting his chin. "Quidditch... I do not understand why people keep playing such a game. It seems a tad... barbaric, if you ask me." 

Draco stared at the man, one of his pale eyebrows raised.

Wasn't Salazar known to play the game himself, from time to time? Wasn't he one of the people who had taken the initiative to make teams for every Hogwarts house? 

As Draco opened his mouth to voice his thoughts to the portrait, he was rather rudely interrupted by a voice coming from a portrait a bit further down the hall. "Why yes of course, Salazar dear!" 

A small, curvy woman clad in a long, yellow dress entered the portrait, a bright smile lighting up her round face. "You only say such nonsense because you are a sore loser." She chuckled as she turned towards Draco, her honey-brown eyes sparkling as she leaned closer, shielding her mouth with one hand and whispering, "He never got over it, as you can see." 

Spluttering indignantly, Salazar placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Helga dear", he said loudly. "I was one of the best players of our time, mind you." 

Helga chuckled at the dramatics of the man beside her, her eyes softening as she leaned closer, straightening his emerald robes a bit. "I'm sure you were, darling. Though it wasn't your fault you kept losing to Godric. Everyone knew he was far out of your league." 

"How dare you!" Salazar exclaimed, his eyes wide in horror. "And I was beginning to think you were on my side!" 

Helga shook her head, a few loose curls bouncing around her face. "I do not believe in things such as picking sides, Salazar. You should know that." 

Salazar grumbled something under his breath they couldn't hear, Helga rolling her eyes as she patted the man on his shoulder. She turned around, smiling brightly at Draco still standing in front of the portrait, eyeing the interaction between the two with growing curiosity.

"Anyways," Helga said, "good morning, Mr Malfoy. Going for a fly on this cold day?" 

Draco shook his head. "No, I was on my way to the Quidditch try-outs", he replied, only now realising he should be going if he didn't want to be late.

"Of course, dear boy", Helga smiled sweetly, waving her hand at him dismissively. "We will not hold you up any longer. Go have fun! And good luck!" 

Nodding his head once with a polite smile, Draco turned around and started walking down the maze of corridors to the Entrance Hall at top speed.

However, he came to an abrupt stop as he turned the last corner, the vast doors to the outside just out of reach. 

There, right in front of him, stood a group of Slytherins, their wands held loosely in their hands. Draco recognised the group as the ones who had kept glaring at him in the Great Hall at the beginning of the year. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had been amongst the handful of people bold enough to shoot a stinging hex at him throughout the first month. They were cunning enough, though, not to get caught. 

"Well, well", said one of them, taking a step towards where Draco was standing. Draco thought his name was something along the lines of Oliver Gage - or was it Nicholas? He wasn't entirely sure. Not that he cared anyways. 

Gage was the smallest one out of the five, his dark hair neatly combed to one side, a few strands covering one of his eyes. The other eye was glaring at him, his lips curling into a sneer Salazar Slytherin would have been proud of. 

He reminded Draco a little of his younger self with the way he seemed to look down at Draco - although he was taller than the boy - and the way he lifted his chin in the air as if he owned the place. Younger Draco would have done exactly the same - if not a little more dramatic. 

"What are you doing here, _Malfoy",_ Gage sneered, his eyes narrowing at Draco as he looked around him. "And all alone, nonetheless", he continued. "Where are your Death Eater friends?" 

The other four chuckled as they all took a few steps closer to Draco, causing him to take a step back, his breath catching in his throat as he noticed the wall being closer than he remembered it to be. They were going to close him in completely. 

Hiding the emotions - and slightly rising panic - behind his mask of indifference, Draco sighed and ran a hand through his loose, blond hair.

"What do you want, Gage." His voice sounded surprisingly flat, devoid of any emotion. He knew better than to let them see what was going on inside his head. It would only work in their favour. 

At the lack of reaction he got out of the older boy, Gage clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Yet he continued, not showing anything of his growing irritation to his friends, his sneer still in place. 

"Is it true what I've heard?" he asked, the sneer turning into a malicious smirk. "The Ministry is really keeping a close eye on you? Breathing down your neck so they can throw you in Azkaban from the moment you set one step out of place?" 

Biting his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything that would get him into more trouble, Draco kept quiet. He knew what they were trying to do, but he wasn't going to take the bait. 

"I see", Gage said as Draco didn't answer, a dark twinkle visible in his eyes. "Our poor little Draco is completely helpless. Unless you want to join your father, of course", he smirked, tilting his head and pouting mockingly. "I'm sure that can easily be arranged and your father will definitely hear about it." 

The group of Slytherins took another few steps towards Draco. One of them - Draco couldn't remember his name - grabbed a hold of his broomstick. Yanking hard at the wood, he snatched it out of Draco's grip, throwing it away a little further down the corridor. 

But Draco was too busy with what was happening to really care about his precious broom. The group had taken yet another step closer, almost completely surrounding him now. He found himself with his back already pressed against the wall, his wand uselessly dangling from his fingers. 

He couldn't defend himself without it backfiring at him. Who would believe him if he said _they_ started the whole thing? After all, who - in their righteous mind - would believe Death Eater scum like himself?

He wouldn't. 

His breathing had quickened, his heart pounding in his chest as his throat closed up, unwanted tears building up behind his eyes.

They had completely circled him now. There was no escape.

They were standing close; close enough for him to feel their hot breaths on his pale face. 

Too close! They were standing too close! 

He had to get out of here, but he couldn't. They blocked every exit, their bodies pressed tightly together. 

Too close! 

Why won't they go away? Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why wouldn't they take a few steps back so they weren't standing as close as they did now? 

He needed space. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't focus. His mind felt like mush inside his head. 

Why was this happening again?! 

"You will pay for what you've done, you filthy _Death Eater_ ", Gage growled lowly, his hot breath ghosting over Draco's face. He had grabbed the front of Draco's robes and had pulled him closer, completely oblivious to the still rising panic inside the now slightly shaking boy. 

Too close, dammit! They were standing too close! 

Draco had closed his eyes, mentally bracing himself for the familiar pain to hit him somewhere in the face or the stomach. They always aim for the face or the stomach. 

But the pain never came. 

The grip on his robes suddenly loosened as the heavy - now unconscious - weight of his attacker slumped against his body, causing Draco's legs to give out underneath him. He slid down the wall, curling up as small as he could as he clutched his head between his knees, trying to get his breathing under control by focusing on the sounds of his surroundings. 

He could hear an annoyed huff followed by a grunt as the unconscious body of Oliver Gage was dragged away from him. Footsteps came closer and warm, gentle hands were placed on his shoulders.

Draco flinched away from the contact, whimpering softly and hoping his attackers would leave him alone. 

Yet the hands didn't go away. Instead they pulled him away from the cold wall, his head coming in contact with something soft and familiar, the scent of lavender and grapefruit filling his nose. 

"Breathe, Draco", the soft, sweet voice of Astoria said as Draco took a deep breath through his nose, concentrating on the feeling of her warm hands now running slow, comforting circles on his back. "I'm here with you. You're safe. They're gone." 

After what felt like years - but was probably only minutes - Draco had managed to get his breathing to even out, his body relaxing in the safe and warm embrace he was engulfed in. He didn't want to move away. He didn't want to lose this warmth. 

He felt absolutely drained to the bones. It had been quite a long time - a little over a month - since he's had a full blown panic attack like this. Yes, he's had a few moments where he's had to use his many grounding techniques for the most stupid things like him not finding a matching pair of socks or a staircase moving when he was already halfway to the top. But he had always been able to shake it off.

This one, however... 

It had felt like he was trapped inside his own mind, not being able to gain control. Not enough, at least, to focus on controlling his breathing. He had been stuck in a spiral of the same thoughts, repeating over and over, holding him in their claws and preventing him from escaping. If it hadn't been for Astoria breaking through, he was certain he would have still been sitting there: a curled up and whimpering mess. 

This scared him to no end. What if it happened all over again? What if he would have to start all the way back from the beginning? He had thought he was getting better. His healer had _told_ him he was actually getting better.

Why didn't it feel like it then? Why did it feel like his world was suddenly back to slowly falling apart? 

"Draco?" Astoria called out to him, Draco protesting as she pushed him slightly away from the embrace so she could look at him. She brought one of her hands up to cup his cheek, her thumbs wiping away some of the tears that were still streaming down his face. She smiled at him; a bright, loving smile, though Draco didn't miss the sadness that flashed through her dark eyes. "You're okay", she said firmly. 

Draco nodded, though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He felt ashamed. He had made a complete fool out of himself, crying like a bloody baby and over what? People standing a little too close to him? 

It wouldn't take long for the rumours to start, Draco knew that. His already tainted reputation would only get worse. The whole bloody school would know about his pathetic 'episode' by dinner. It was only a matter of days for the word to spread outside the castle walls too. 

"I'm sorry", he whispered quietly. He had started shaking again without him noticing and new tears were streaming down his face. 

Shaking her head, Astoria placed a finger underneath his chin, turning his head so he was forced to look at her.

"Draco," she started, another finger wiping away a lone tear on his cheek. "You don't have to be sorry, you know that." A small, genuine smile lifted up the corners of her mouth. "Whenever something like this happens, it isn't your fault. It just happens, so there's no need to be ashamed of anything." 

It wasn't his fault. He knew it wasn't. 

But why wouldn't his mind believe those words? Why did he always feel the need to apologise profusely after something like this happened? 

"When is your next appointment with Healer Glover?" Astoria asked, her fingers combing soothingly through his hair. 

Not realising he was doing it, Draco leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and a content smile appearing on his lips. "Next week", he mumbled, feeling the exhaustion slowly washing over him. He could sleep for what felt like eternity. 

"You should tell him what happened", she simply said and Draco knew from the tone in her voice that there was no room for debate. He would have to tell Healer Glover about what happened. It was the only way the man would be able to help him and he knew that. 

But still... 

He didn't particularly want to tell anyone about it. He just wanted to forget it ever happened. 

Nuzzling his face deeper into the crook of Astoria's neck, Draco sighed as her arms tightened around him. "Thank you, Tori."

Her face softening even more, Astoria kissed the top of his blond head, a smile lighting up her doll-like face. "Of course, Dray", she said. "Don't worry about it." 

~*~

The wind was howling in his ears, his heart beating rapidly and his veins full of adrenaline. The rush of finally being back in the air, the gold-winged ball fluttering right in front of him as he chased after it, Harry hadn't felt this good in a very long time. 

This seemed to be the only place where his mind didn't torture him with thoughts and images of the awful things that have happened. Only the sound of the wind in his ears, the welcome sting of the cold autumn air on his face and the tiny ball in front of him mattered. 

All other things weren't important in this moment. He was free in the air to do whatever he wanted. 

The Snitch was right there. Right there in front of him. He only had to reach a little further and... 

His fingers closed around the tiny ball, his hand held high above his head as he smiled at his victory. He had caught the Snitch! 

From down on the pitch he could hear his fellow Eighth Years cheering and applauding, chanting his name enthusiastically as he descended; a proud smile still on his lips. 

"That was brilliant, mate!" Ron exclaimed, clapping his best friend on the back as he landed, dismounting his broom with the Snitch firmly clutched in his fist. 

Harry nodded, smiling back, though he couldn't dismiss the feeling that something felt off. Something was missing. Even high up in the air, he hadn't been able to shake off the feeling of it. Like a piece of a puzzle was missing. 

For the whole week, Harry had looked forward to this moment, imagining him and Draco flying through the air after the Snitch, teasing each other and giving each other secretive smiles or even some bloody _winks_. 

Yet now - when it was over - it just didn't feel right. Harry had wanted to race against Malfoy in the air, like they've done countless of times. Just them two, chasing the glittering ball as it zigzagged through the air, trying to shake them off its trail. 

However, Draco hadn't turned up. 

Harry had been thoroughly disappointed when he couldn't find the blond head between the others who had turned up for the try-outs. He hadn't been in the stands to watch either - like some of the other Eighth Years had done, under which Hermione and Pansy. And when Harry had asked Blaise, the Italian had frowned, looking around for his friend but shaking his head as he - too - couldn't find him, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. 

Draco wasn't someone who backed down from a challenge this easily because he was scared of losing. He had _never_ backed down from an opportunity to beat Harry at something - especially something as simple as Quidditch. 

Yet, it seemed like Draco _had_ chickened out this time. 

_Maybe he has lost track of time_ , Harry thought. _Maybe he's still studying somewhere in the library, completely unaware of the time._

Or maybe something had happened to him? 

Although Harry was known to be more oblivious than the average person, it hadn't gone unnoticed by him how some students kept giving Draco vile looks or how they sometimes threw mild stinging hexes or tripping hexes in his direction. 

Often, Draco would be seen walking with some of his friends down the corridors, but never alone. Probably to prevent students from doing him more harm. With the Ministry breathing down his neck, Draco couldn't afford to be involved in any fights. They would gladly throw him in Azkaban for that. 

So what if something had happened now? 

Both Pansy and Blaise were here at the pitch and Harry thought he had seen Theo around here somewhere too. That meant Draco was completely alone...

"Alright!" Ron said loudly, getting the attention of the gathered Eighth Years. "I think it's time to announce who has made it on the team."

Excited murmurs filled the air around them. 

"The position of Keeper will - of course - go to me." 

A small round of applause followed. 

"The position of Seeker will go to Harry Potter -" another round of applause with a few cheers "-the Beaters are Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott -" more applause and cheers "-and lastly Blaise Zabini and Mandy Brocklehurst will be our Chasers." 

The cheers and applause stopped abruptly at that, the Eighth Years exchanging confused looks with each other. 

"I hope you are aware that there are only two Chasers", Blaise commented, raising an elegant, dark eyebrow. "We need three, though." 

"I know, I know", Ron sighed, running a hand through his ginger locks. "But we will have to do with two Chasers for now, seeing as Neville is still recovering from his broken arm." 

It had come as quite the surprise when Neville had turned up at the try-outs, though he seemed determined to try for a place on the team as Chaser.

Everybody knew, however, that Neville wasn't particularly good - if not horrible actually - at flying on a broomstick. Let alone him flying _combined_ with catching and throwing a Quaffle to his teammates. He had ended up missing the ball more often than not, eventually even falling off his broom when a Bludger had hit him square in the chest. 

Luckily, he hadn't flown too high up in the air, resulting in him only having a broken arm. It could have been much worse. Though this also meant the Eighth Year Quidditch Team was missing a Chaser. 

Nobody else but Blaise, Mandy and Neville had tried for Chaser. 

"Draco can try for Chaser, if he's still allowed to", an unfamiliar voice called from behind the group. 

They all turned around, only to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing in his Quidditch robes and with his broom firmly clutched in his hand. His grey eyes looked determined, though Harry thought he could see the slight uncertainty in them too; the edges coloured slightly red. 

Had Draco been crying? 

Harry clenched his fists tightly around the handle of his broom, suddenly wanting nothing more than to scream at the girl, telling her to removed those filthy hands from Draco. 

His heart felt like it had been stabbed, tears forming behind his eyes. Yet, he was angry at the same time. Not at himself, but for some reason - he didn't dare to name - he was mad at the girl; that gorgeous girl standing way too close to Draco. 

"Alright, Malfoy", Ron said, his voice cold as he addressed the blond. "You'll have to show us what you've got." 

He turned towards the other two Chasers, nodding his head at them. They both mounted their brooms, pushing of the ground and flying into position in the air. The two Beaters followed quickly, their bats held firmly in their hands. 

Draco seemed to hesitate for a bit, but when the brunette girl whispered something in his ear he smiled slightly, nodding his head and mounting his broom. He chased after the others, readying himself for the short game to start. 

Surprisingly, the practice game had gone smoothly. 

At the beginning, Draco seemed to struggle a bit, but he soon got the hang of it, throwing and catching the ball as if he had been doing it his whole life, dodging a Bludger every now and again with remarkable ease. 

Eventually, Ron signed for them to come back down, a scowl covering his freckled face. Harry knew Ron didn't like to admit what he was about to. He still didn't particularly like Draco. 

"You've done well, Malfoy", Ron said as everyone had landed safely onto the ground. "The position is yours." 

Excited claps and cheers rang in the air, Pansy running up to them and throwing her arms around the blond, her delighted voice audible above all the other noise. 

Harry found himself smiling too, cheering along with the others and forgetting about his earlier feelings as he hadn't even noticed the mysterious girl disappearing. 

"Let's go inside then", Terry Boot announced. "I'm starving." 

As the group started making their way back up to the castle for lunch, Harry managed to grab a hold of Draco's sleeve, pulling him back. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked Draco whom had turned around, a questioning eyebrow raised. 

Draco nodded. 

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry stared at the ground, avoiding the curious grey gaze of the boy in front of him. "Why didn't you turn up for the position of Seeker?" he asked quietly. 

The moment the words left his mouth, however, he wanted to take them back. It sounded stupid; _he_ sounded stupid. Who was he to demand Draco for an explanation? He could do whatever the hell he liked!

Draco shrugged, a smirk appearing on his face. "Lost track of time, I guess", he lied easily, his smirk widening. "Why do you ask? Disappointed you couldn't see me win against you?" He tilted his head, mocking playfully. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you tosser", he smirked. "I just wish I could have seen you lose again." A smirk of his own appeared on Harry's face. "We all know _I'm_ the better Seeker." 

Gasping offendedly, Draco placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Potter! You wound me!" 

Harry laughed freely at that, throwing his head in his neck as they started walking back towards the castle. The others had already disappeared inside. They walked side by side, brooms in one hand and their other hand dangerously close to brushing against each other. 

Harry turned his head to look at Draco, seeing his lips curling into a pleasant smile. 

"Like what you see?" Draco asked, now turning to also look at Harry, his grey eyes twinkling in the few rays of sunshine filtering through the thick rainclouds. 

Tilting his head with a playful smirk dancing around his lips, Harry said, "I can't complain." 

Although he was trying to hide it by turning his head away, Harry could still see the blond's cheeks blushing a beautiful pink, the tips of his ears a few shades darker than usual. "Shut up", he mumbled, nudging Harry's shoulder with his own. 

Harry laughed again, something he should do more often. Everything seemed much brighter when he laughed. Most of the times though, he didn't really have a reason to laugh. The only reason Harry was laughing now was... well Draco, actually. 

Harry felt his smile widening at the thought, his cheeks heating slightly. 

"You played well today", he said, eyeing the blond from the corner of his eyes. 

He could see Draco blushing even harder, a small yet genuine smile lighting up his face. "Thanks", he said. "I would say the same for you, but I haven't actually seen you play." 

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry unconsciously walked a little closer to the other boy. "Don't worry", he smiled. "You'll see me play more than enough this year." 

And this time their hands _did_ brush, though neither boy seemed to mind all that much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my [Instagram](https://instagram.com/cluelesspigeons?igshid=1sdbxd2lm8vj5) and stay updated for future uploads and even other works! 
> 
> Also, let me know what you thought of the chapter!! :)


	8. 31 October 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might take a little longer to upload next chapters, seeing as I have to still write them, but I seem to be lacking motivation and - more importantly - time (a big thank you to college for taking up all my time and energy ಠ_ಠ )
> 
> Anyways, enjoy chapter 8!

> _"I've lost my mind, I don't know what's happening to me."_
> 
> [Loïc Nottet - Doctor ](https://youtu.be/pVcnsKdpys8)

**31 October 1998**

Turning around to the portrait he had just stepped through, Harry frowned. 

None of the Four Founders was present... again. The portrait was completely empty, even though a few weeks ago McGonagall had made sure there would _always_ be someone present after the incident with Neville. 

So, why was it empty now? 

A weird feeling of déjà-vu washed over him as he stared at the portrait. Somehow this felt very familiar, though Harry couldn't remember any time where he had been in the same situation. 

He shook his head, starting to make his way through the maze of corridors in the castle. Maybe he could clear his head if he took a stroll around. Maybe his thoughts would finally leave him alone after that. 

As Harry lazily wandered through the castle, not really knowing where he was going - not that he cared anyways - he noticed that the corridors seemed to be darker than normal. Only a couple of torches on the walls were actually lit and the dark clouds of the night prevented any moonlight to come through. 

Something felt off. 

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself as he slowly continued his pointless walking. He cursed himself for not bringing anything warmer than his T-shirt and the pair of joggers he was wearing as his pyjamas. With winter just around the corner, the temperature in and around the castle wasn't much higher - if not already below - freezing point. 

Harry stumbled, his hands catching the rough castle wall just in time to prevent himself from falling to the ground. Lifting his wand, he cast a _Lumos_ , shining the small light on the ground. 

There was nothing there. He had seemingly tripped over nothing but air. 

Now thoroughly confused, Harry turned back around to continue his way, but stopped when he heard a noise coming from further down the hall. 

It sounded like someone was crying, quiet sobs filling the otherwise silent corridor. But why would somebody be crying in the cold corridors at this ungodly hour of the night? It couldn't be Moaning Myrtle; she hardly left her bathroom... 

So, who was it then? 

Wary of what he might find around the corner, Harry gripped his wand tightly - his knuckles turning white as he did so - and walked forward. His instincts were screaming at him to turn back to the safety of his own common room; that this wasn't a good idea. But Harry never really listened to his instincts when it came to danger, now did he? 

What greeted him as he turned the corner, however, made him wish he _had_ listened to his instincts for once. Gasping, he stumbled backwards, dropping his wand as he did so. The thin wood clattered loudly onto the ground. 

There - right in front of him - stood the Weasleys. 

Their heads hung low, their shoulders slumped underneath the weight of their grief and grim expressions decorating their freckled faces. They were standing in a half-circle. In the middle lay a body, unmoving. 

Mrs. Weasley was sitting on the ground, cradling the head of her lost son in her lap, tears streaming down her round cheeks. Her shoulders shook violently as sobs racked through her body, the heart-breaking sound filling the quiet of the night. 

She leaned closer to the person next to her. 

Mr. Weasley was also sitting on the ground, his hand rubbing comforting circles on his wife's back, his eyes red and his lips trembling. Every now and again he would lean closer to Molly, whispering sweet nothings to try and calm his distraught wife down. 

The other Weasleys were all hurled together, finding comfort in each other's presence. Even Hermione stood between them, tightly clinging to Ron who had his strong arms safely wrapped around her trembling frame. His face was buried into his girlfriend's bushy hair, but Harry knew his best friend was crying - if the shaking of his shoulders was anything to go by. 

Harry rushed to the family once the shock had gone away. He fell on his knees in front of Fred, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry, Fred", he whispered, his voice trembling almost as much as his hands did. 

This was all his fault. He was responsible for this. 

A hand placed itself rather harshly on his shoulder, causing Harry to turn his head, his glassy, green eyes looking startled. 

Ron stood behind him; an intense, cold expression on his face as he stared down at his best friend. "We don't want you here, Harry", he said sharply. 

Harry could practically feel the anger and disgust radiating from the ginger as he tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder, forcing him to stand up from his crouched position on the ground. 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked confused as he dusted off his clothes. 

Surely, he must have misheard Ron? Fred was his family too; so why wouldn't they want Harry to be around anymore? 

"Don't you dare act all innocent on us now!" Ron bellowed, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "We all know this is what you've planned all along!" 

Eyes widening, Harry shook his head. "No! I've never meant for this to happen!" 

Mrs. Weasley let out another heart-breaking sob at that, her fingers stroking the ginger curls of her late son. 

Ron huffed a laugh, though there was no humour in it. "Of course, you didn't", he laughed bitterly. "Just like you didn't mean to 'forget' to tell us Voldemort was supposed to kill you, hm? We thought you were bloody dead! We thought we had lost it all! After everything we'd been through!" 

"I'm sorry!" Harry exclaimed, his green eyes pleading. "I didn't-"

"Enough", another voice interrupted. 

George stepped forward; his face seemed emotionless, though Harry could see the grief and the betrayal in his eyes. "Ron's right", he said as he met Harry's gaze, the intensity sending shivers down Harry's spine, "You should go." 

"George I-" 

The ginger held up his hand, interrupting Harry once again. "Save it, Harry", he spat, "I don't want to hear any excuses from you anymore. Leave." 

Shoulders slumping, Harry looked at the other Weasleys, his gaze eventually landing on Ginny, who stood between Percy and Charlie. He gave her a pleading look. 

Her usually warm, brown eyes were cold and lifeless as their gazes met briefly before she looked away again as if she were ashamed to even think of him. 

Noticing his sister's distress, Charlie glared daggers at Harry, tightening his protective arm around Ginny. 

"Just go, Harry", Hermione suddenly said, coming to stand next to her boyfriend. "You're only making it harder for all of us." 

Nodding his head slowly, Harry took a step in the direction from where he came, Ron's hand finally falling from his shoulder. 

He felt stupid to think that after everything that had happened over the last years he had finally found people he could call his own family; people with whom he could talk as if he had known them his whole life; people who had stood by his side at the worst of times; people who loved him... 

But he was wrong; so horribly wrong. 

The Weasleys had clearly never seen him as one of their own, and they never would either. 

As Harry walked further and further away from them, he could feel his world slowly caving in. He had lost it all. There was nothing left here for him anymore. He was done; done with everything. 

"No!" 

A trembling voice broke the silence of the corridors. Harry jumped at the sudden sound, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his wand raised, ready to attack anyone who dared to cross his path. 

"Please, no!" the voice yelled again. "Leave him alone! Take me instead!" 

Harry blinked, tilting his head in confusion. He recognised that voice from somewhere, though he couldn't really place it. Had he even heard that voice in real life before?

A low, raspy laugh followed the pleas of the voice, sending shivers down Harry's spine. He knew that laugh. He had heard it multiple times before and he was certain he would never be able to forget the dreadful sound for the rest of his life. 

"And why, dear Lily," Voldemort cackled, "would I do such a ludicrous thing?" 

"Please", the voice - Harry now recognised as his mother's - whispered softly. She sounded as broken and defeated as Harry felt himself. 

As Harry took a step forward, the corridors of Hogwarts melted away slowly, replaced by the warm and cosy baby room in his parents' house in Godric's Hollow. 

It was fairly dark in the room, though Harry could clearly make out the two - or rather three - people who occupied the small space. His mother was standing protectively in front of a crib in which baby Harry sat, eyeing the situation with curious, emerald eyes. 

The Dark Lord was standing on the opposite side near the door, his wand lying loosely in the palm of his hand. His red eyes were alert, contemplating if the young woman in front of him would be a difficult opponent or not. 

He seemed to decide the latter as he raised his wand with a steady hand, aiming it directly at her chest. 

Harry already knew what was going to happen though. He had relived this countless of times and although he really didn't want to see it again, he couldn't seem to look away. In fact, he couldn't move at all. He was stuck to watch it all play out in front of his eyes... again. 

Lily glared at the older wizard, a look Harry appeared to have inherited from her. Her own wand lay a few feet away from her on the ground, though they all knew that even if she _would_ have had her wand she wouldn't have stood a chance against the dark wizard in the room. Voldemort was the strongest he had ever been at the time. 

A menacing smile crept onto his snake-like features as Lily didn't move a muscle. "Well then...", he began, tilting his head slightly. "Seeing as you don't want to cooperate, there is only one way to solve this." He sighed dramatically, fake remorse written all over his face. "I have given you a fair chance, young lady. But you've chosen to waste it." 

A sad look was visible in Lily's green eyes as she glanced at baby Harry still sitting quietly in his crib, not really understanding what was happening. She closed her eyes momentarily, muttering something under her breath before turning back to the Dark Lord, determined to not give him the satisfaction of showing how scared she actually was. 

As Voldemort opened his mouth to speak the curse that ruined Harry's life, Lily's eyes met Harry's, their gazes locking for a moment. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide as his mother gave an apologetic smile. 

"Please forgive us", she mouthed. 

Sadness, so heavy it felt like he would suffocate, washed over Harry as he saw the true anguish and hopelessness in the depths of his mother's eyes at the thought of leaving her son so early; at orphaning their only son, their treasure. 

But Harry didn't have the chance to tell her it was okay, that he had forgiven them both for leaving him long ago and he never would because this... this was all just a dream, a mere figment of his imagination, an image his mind loved to torture him with. 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

~*~

Harry awoke with a start. 

The two words were still ringing in his ears as he sat up in bed, untangling his legs from his covers. He was covered in sweat, his hands shaking uncontrollably and his breathing irregular as tears were freely streaming down his cheeks. 

What the hell just happened? 

Taking in deep breaths through his nose and breathing them out through his mouth, his eyes wandered around the room, inspecting every little detail he could find in the dark. 

It was still dark outside, heavy clouds hiding the stars from view. If he had to believe the huge clock on the wall Draco had brought with him a few weeks ago from Hogsmeade, saying it would be convenient if they could keep track of time when Harry had given him a weird look- Harry knew Draco actually loved the clock, though he would never admit it out loud - it was around four o'clock in the morning. 

Knowing he would never fall back asleep now, Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his arms above his head. Quiet as not to wake the sleeping boy in the bed next to his, he sneaked out the room, descending the winding staircase to the abandoned common room below. 

He sat down in his armchair near the fireplace, lighting the fire with a lazy wave of his hand. With a heavy sigh, he slumped forwards, his elbows leaning on his thighs and his head falling into his hands, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. 

He was absolutely tired - no, _exhausted_ \- of having to keep living through those never-ending nightmares. He hadn't had a nightmare-less night in what felt like forever. 

The only thing that seemed to somewhat help were his Dreamless Sleep potions, but the last time he had taken one of those he had felt absolutely dreadful. He had spent the first hours after he had awoken with his head above the toilet, throwing up everything he had in his stomach. 

Yet despite that, the potion _still_ was very addictive. So, that's why he had promised not only himself, but also his two best friends he would cut back on the consumption of the drug-like potion. Hermione had even offered to take away his stash so she could hide it from him, but Harry had politely declined, claiming he could manage on his own, thank you very much. 

But now - as he was sitting in his armchair in the common room - he asked himself if he actually still could manage on his own. He was extremely sleep deprived and with the amount of homework assignments the teachers kept giving them, he never went to bed early either. 

He had tried napping during class - of course - but both his teachers and Hermione had prevented him from continuing that. Hermione had even threatened she would refuse to let him borrow her notes from classes if he kept wasting away his time in class by napping. 

Not that he had borrowed her notes much over the last few weeks. 

Since both Ron and Hermione had been chosen as Head Boy and Girl by the Headmistress, they had barely had time to really talk anymore. The two of them were always too busy with their duties: making sure no students were out of bed after curfew or helping a teacher after class with cleaning the classrooms or even tutoring younger years if they had questions about certain subjects. 

The only time they _had_ managed to speak for more than five minutes over the last week was in the Great Hall at a few mealtimes. But even then, Ron and Hermione had left the room before all the others had, claiming they still had a lot to do. 

And that left Harry feeling alone more times than he dared to admit. He had never known how much he actually depended on his two best friends, until now. 

If he needed a break from studying, Ron would always be the first to suggest they played a game of chess or went outside in the fresh air. 

If he needed to study, but he couldn't find the motivation, Hermione would be the one to encourage him in her own way. 

And if he needed a late-night talk in the common room after a rather stressful day, both his friends would listen and talk with him until none of them could keep their eyes open for much longer. 

Now though, Harry had been more on his own than with his friends. And although he still saw them every day, he couldn't help but miss them. Even the other Eighth Years - who had noticed Harry's sudden drop in mood and had tried to cheer him up on different occasions - didn't seem to completely chase away his loneliness. 

And with his loneliness came other things too. 

He often found himself not having the energy to get out of bed, causing him to be late for many classes. He skipped more meals than ever, never feeling hungry anymore or simply forgetting to eat. And not to forget his darkening thoughts. 

The sad and depressive things his mind would come up with, torturing him with _'_ _what ifs_ _'_ or spiralling down into a loop of the same thoughts over and over and over. 

The only times Harry had managed to forget about the bad things in his life, were the times he was up in the air and the times he got to speak with Draco. 

Whenever they talked - as short and scarce as the moments were sometimes - he always completely forgot about his loneliness, his emptiness. 

He didn't know what it was about the boy that made him forget everything bad, though. 

Was it the way Draco's eyes would light up whenever he talked about something he was passionate about? Or perhaps the way one side of his lips lifted up more than the other whenever he smiled? Was it the way he rolled his eyes when Harry had said something particularly stupid again? Or maybe it were the annoyed yet fond huffs whenever Harry asked to borrow yet another quill? 

Harry didn't know. 

The only thing he _did_ know was that he truly enjoyed the blond's company. Perhaps a little too much even, seeing as Harry had caught himself thinking about Draco on multiple occasions, though he would rather die than admit it out loud. 

Not to mention the almost irresistible urge to yell at the mysterious, brunette girl - Harry had learned her name was Astoria - who seemed to be at Draco's side wherever he went, her perfect smile never faltering, even when the other students clearly didn't hide their dismay for her companion. 

Harry hated feeling that way. 

The girl had never done anything wrong to him. He didn't even know of her existence until a few weeks ago when he had first seen her on the Quidditch pitch. 

So why did he keep feeling that way towards her then? 

"Oh! Good evening again, Mr. Potter." 

The smooth voice broke through Harry's thoughts, filling the silence in the common room. "Or should I say night? Morning, perhaps?" 

The imposing figure of Godric Gryffindor looked down from the painting on the wall above the fireplace at Harry; an amused twinkle was visible in his dark brown eyes and a faint smile danced around his lips. A large lion was sitting at his feet, its eyes closed as Godric's fingers ran lazily through its mane, the lion purring contently. 

Harry nodded in greeting. "Good... morning, Sir." 

Godric eyed Harry curiously, tilting his head slightly. "Now," he started, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him, "what brings you here this night, young man? You seem a bit... troubled, I should say." 

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, Harry shrugged hopelessly. "I think 'troubled' is putting it lightly", he smiled sadly. "Couldn't sleep again." 

"Ah, of course", the Gryffindor Founder smiled understandingly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he stroked his beard with his free hand, the other still running through the lion's mane. "Nightmares truly are a horrific phenomenon. When I was - well, still alive, I should say - I also used to have them frequently. Their horrors would sometimes even haunt me at day." 

Harry looked surprised at that. "Really?" he asked, curiosity filling his voice. 

"Oh yes, my boy -" Godric huffed sadly "- almost every night. I used to wake up screaming bloody murder and sweating like a pig, completely disoriented." 

"Did you...", Harry trailed off, uncertain if he should even ask. 

Yes, he had had quite a few conversations with the man and he had actually got to know a lot about who Godric had been as a person, but perhaps this topic was becoming a little too... personal. They had only really talked about simple things like classes or even the weather. Not things like... this. 

"Did you find a solution, Sir?" he eventually decided to ask, biting his lip nervously. 

"Well..." Godric paused, pursing his lips and for one moment Harry thought the man would tell him off for asking such ridiculous questions. One could not easily stop their mind from creating dreams, after all. 

"I had met someone." 

Slight disappointment filled Harry at those words. If he would have to wait until he met someone, he might have to wait for the rest of his life. Plus, he had already met a lot of people throughout his life, yet none of them seemed to be his solution to his nightmares.

Noticing the sombre expression on the boy's face, Godric sighed sadly. "It wasn't just anybody, though", he continued, catching Harry's attention again. "They were very special to me - a pain in my arse, I should say, but still very special." 

"Someone special?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in question. "As in... a lover?" 

"Indeed they were, young man", Godric smiled, a faraway and glassy look in his dark eyes. "It's a shame it had taken me so long before I truly saw them for who they really were, though. It would have saved us a lot of fights and nasty words." 

Confused, Harry tilted his head, milling the words over in his head. "So, you had known them a while before you actually realised?" 

A sad smile ghosted the Founder's face, the lion nuzzling his hand with its nose. "Yes... yes, I did. You could even say we were enemies, rivals at first..." He shook his head thoughtfully. 

"Remember, Harry", he said, looking directly at Harry who was still sitting in the armchair. "You have to look deeper than the surface to _truly_ know someone. After all, sometimes people think it's safer to hide who they really are behind their masks of indifference." 

~*~

Halloween, Harry decided, had to be the worst holiday of the year. 

He never understood why people could be so happy on such an awful day like this. The 31st of October... He absolutely despised that day. 

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his parents were taken away from him on this particular day. That also meant many other things were taken away from him, such as his chance at having a happy family who truly loved him for who he was - not one that was forced to take him in and practically treated him like their personal slave just because he was different. 

Or his chance at a normal childhood. His chance at receiving Christmas presents he _actually_ enjoyed or learning how to ride a broom with his father chasing after him and yelling at him to come down because _'Lily is going to kill me when she finds out, dammit!'_ or helping his mother cook in the kitchen, but ending with more food on his face than in the pot... 

All gone.

Stripped away from him in a matter of a few seconds. 

Aside from the Weasleys and Sirius, Harry never really had people he could call his family. 

But even now... With that whole reoccurring dream about the Weasleys not wanting him anymore...

He knew it was only a dream, yet it felt so real he sometimes doubted if it might not actually be true after all. If only by a little. Some things ought to be true, right? Why else would his mind come up with such a ridiculous idea of the Weasleys not wanting him in their family anymore? 

Groaning loudly, Harry let his head fall onto the hard wood of his desk, closing his eyes as yet another wave of exhaustion washed over him. 

The amount of homework the teachers kept giving them was unbelievable, not to mention the training sessions of the Quidditch team. Ron had wanted them to train at least two times a week, but sometimes they would even practice three times or even _four_ times. With their first match in three weeks, he wanted all of them to be absolutely prepared for anything. 

_More like absolutely exhausted_ , Harry thought bitterly. 

Throughout the whole day, he had felt like he could fall asleep wherever he was, even if he was standing at that given moment. He didn't care. He just wanted to close his eyes and doze off... if only for a few minutes.

That couldn't hurt, right? 

The door to their dorm opened loudly, the sound of a now vaguely familiar melody Draco always seemed to be humming under his breath, filling the room. 

The blond walked to his desk, eyeing the other boy with a raised eyebrow before dropping off his satchel. He shrugged, walking to their wardrobe and taking out a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt. 

"You look like shit, Potter", he commented, rolling his eyes as the only response he got was a muffled grunt. 

He cursed under his breath at the sight of their messy wardrobe. All their clothes - mostly Harry's though, Draco would _never_ let it come this far, thank you very much - were strewn all across the shelves and hangers. 

"Looks like our wardrobe takes after you", he mumbled, amusement clearly audible in his voice. 

Turning his head, Harry glared half-heartedly at the Slytherin's back. "Thanks", he muttered, "I hadn't noticed yet." 

"Of course," Draco said - far too happily for Harry's liking - before _bouncing_ into their shared bathroom. "Always glad to help." 

Harry let his head fall back down on his desk with a loud - and rather hollow - _thump_. He closed his eyes, not even wincing as a throbbing pain spread through his head from where he had hit it on his desk. His glasses dug painfully into his face, though he didn't care. 

The only thing he cared about was sleeping. A few minutes couldn't hurt, right? 

Right. 

With the faint sound of the shower running in the background, Harry felt himself easily drifting off in a light slumber. 

~*~

"Potter..." 

"Harry, come on! Wake up, you prat!" 

As a very annoying hand kept poking the side of his head, Harry didn't see another option but to wake up from his for once relatively peaceful sleep. Still half-asleep, he managed to sit up in his chair, the annoying hand still poking the side of his head. "What...", he grumbled. 

A huff could be heard from next to his desk, the hand finally stopping its poking. "The Halloween feast is about to begin, you git", Draco said excitedly, his grey eyes sparkling happily. "And I'm fairly certain _you_ haven't eaten anything today so..." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How would you know that I haven't eaten anything?" 

Draco shrugged, turning his head away as he looked at something outside one of their windows. Harry thought he could see the blond blush though. 

"You haven't turned up at any of the meals today", Draco mumbled, looking everywhere but at Harry. 

"So?" Harry asked. "I could've eaten in the kitchens and you wouldn't know that." 

Draco didn't answer to that. 

"And besides," Harry continued, "I'm not hungry." 

Now turning back to look at the other boy, Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, you would say that", he said, placing his hands on the edge of Harry's desk and leaning closer. His warm, minty breath ghosted over Harry's face as he spoke, "That's why I'm not asking you to come. You're coming with me, willing or not." 

His still damp hair clung to his forehead, falling down in front of his eyes and Harry had to restrain himself from brushing the strands away from those two beautiful, silver eyes. 

Huffing, Harry stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest, leaning further down in his chair to create a little more space between the two of them so he could think more clearly. He could already feel his cheeks heating up slightly. 

"Try me", he challenged, a smirk playing around his lips. 

A smirk of his own appeared on Draco's face as he leaned even closer. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" he whispered, his teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. His eyes flickered to Harry's lips for a second before returning to stare into Harry's green gaze. 

It wouldn't take much for Harry to just lean in and close the small gap between their mouths, connecting their lips. Draco's lips looked so inviting: warm and rosy... 

Harry stared intensely as the blond's tongue poked out his mouth, wetting those inviting-looking lips of his. His pupils were completely dilated, the black swallowing up almost every last bit of silver that was left as they stared into Harry's own eyes. 

Harry had to refrain himself from jumping the other boy right then and there; his hands clenched into tight fists. 

If only Draco knew what he did to him. Harry was absolutely going crazy - and in dire need of yet another cold shower. He wanted to claim those lips - damn, that whole gorgeous body - so badly. 

But he couldn't do that and he knew he never would either. 

Harry cleared his throat, his cheeks burning almost as hot as the sun. He was relieved to see, though, that Draco's cheeks - even his ears - were a few shades darker than normal. 

"F-Fine, I'll come with you then", Harry eventually managed to say, ignoring the slight trembling of his voice. He couldn't stand Draco's close proximity for much longer, not without making a complete fool out of himself, that is. 

With a satisfied hum, Draco finally leaned back, straightening his T-shirt as he took a sweater - Harry thought looked strangely familiar - from his desk. The blond practically bounced around the room to their door, opening it and waiting impatiently for Harry to join him. 

"Could you _be_ any slower, Potter?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry walked towards the Slytherin, brushing past him as he exited their room. "Why are you so happy anyways?" he asked conversationally as they started their long descend down the winding stairs. 

Draco shrugged. "Not all of us are always as depressed as you are, darling." He winked at Harry before turning back around and walking further down the stairs. 

Harry, though, had stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. 

He really needed to stop doing that! 

"Come on, you buffoon", Draco said impatiently, wrapping his long, elegant fingers around Harry's wrist and pulling the boy with him all the way to the Great Hall, all the while mumbling about bloody Gryffindors; Harry too shocked to complain much. 

_He bloody winked at me again_ , he thought, the faintest of smiles lifting the corners of his lips. _He bloody winked at me!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out my [Instagram](https://instagram.com/cluelesspigeons?igshid=1sdbxd2lm8vj5) and stay updated for future uploads and even other works! 
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> Also, reviews are much appreciated!


	9. 21 November 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is all over the place... (¬_¬)

> _"It's killing me to see you this way."_
> 
> _[Of Monsters And Men - Little Talks](https://youtu.be/ghb6eDopW8I) _

**21 November 1998**

Adrenaline was rushing through Harry's veins. His body was pressed against the smooth, wooden handle of his Firebolt as he raced through the sky. His hand reached out in front of him as far as he could go without him falling off his broom. 

The Hufflepuff Seeker - a Fourth Year Harry only vaguely recognised from passing through the corridors - was tailing him closely, the yellow colour of their Quidditch robes just visible out of the corner of his eye. 

However, Harry knew the other Seeker didn't stand a chance against his Firebolt. It would be highly unlikely for them to catch up on him, seeing as his broom _still_ was the fastest on the market. Though if he had to believe the rumours that had started spreading since the last issue of Quidditch Weekly his broom might not be the fastest for much longer. People rumoured the Firebolt 2 might actually be released in a few months' time. 

"Come on", Harry sighed exasperatedly when he put his outstretched hand back on his broom. 

It felt like he had been chasing the Snitch for ages already, twisting and turning around the pitch. Yet the small, fluttering ball always stayed just out of reach. If Harry didn't know any better he would say the Snitch was actually teasing him. 

It was right in front of him, dammit! 

A startled yelp suddenly sounded from behind him, the yellow robes of the Hufflepuff Seeker disappearing from sight as they were hit by a well-aimed Bludger from one of the Eighth Year Beaters - Harry thought he could faintly hear Terry Boot's triumphant howls. 

Harry didn't turn around to look at what had happened to the other Seeker though. It wasn't exactly that he didn't care; he was just getting tired of having to chase after the Snitch. He wanted it to be over and done with, so he could take a well-deserved, hot shower and finally relax. And he was certain that if he looked away at that moment, the Snitch would disappear... again. 

Still, he told himself he would at least check up on the other Seeker later. 

_Only a little further,_ Harry thought as he positioned his body even further to the front of his broom, the action causing him to wobble slightly. It was a risky move - if the gasps he heard from the students in the stands below were anything to go by - but he managed to pull it off easy enough. 

The thought of falling off his broom was pushed far away to the back of his mind as his hand reached out again, the tips of his fingers finally touching the cold, metal ball... 

"Ladies and gentlemen, he has done it again!", Seamus' amplified voice echoed around the pitch. "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch once again! The Eighth Years have won the game with 220-30!" 

Ear-splitting roars erupted from the stands below, the students absolutely going wild as they all celebrated the Eighth Years' first win of the season. 

Though Harry wasn't celebrating. 

As a matter of fact, he wasn't moving at all. 

His ears were ringing loudly, his grip on his broom tightening as his hands trembled violently. 

No, not again! Not here! 

His chest tightened painfully. He couldn't breathe! 

Loud screams were coming from all-around him as he looked around. The Quidditch pitch had changed. The ground was littered with large pieces of stone, which looked suspiciously like pieces of the castle walls. People were running around, screaming their lungs out as they jumped over what Harry thought to be bodies lying on the ground, unmoving, their eyes staring unseeingly at the darkening sky above. 

His whole body was trembling like a leaf by now; every muscle in his body tensing painfully. He knew what was happening. He had been here before. He was standing on the Hogwarts grounds as people were fighting or fleeing around him, dropping dead as the killing curse - shot by one of the many cloaked figures - hit them unexpectedly. 

They were dying because of him... 

People were fighting for their lives, yet all Harry could do was stand still and watch everything happen as if he were simply watching a film on the television like he had seen the Dursleys do many times before. 

A figure was approaching him. Harry could see them moving straight towards him through the blurry haze, though he couldn't tell who it was. In fact, his gaze wouldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds. The edges of his vision were getting darker and darker. 

Harry watched helplessly as the figure stopped in front of him, reaching out to him. Willing his body to move, he flinched away from the touch, a soft whimper escaping his lips. He thought he could faintly hear the figure say something to him, though the words were lost in the ringing in his ears and the never-ending cries of the people running around. 

Why wouldn't it stop? 

A solid weight was suddenly placed on his shoulder, squeezing tightly and finally... finally the world around him seemed to change again, the screams lowering to a soft lull in the back of his head. The grass of the Quidditch pitch had replaced the rubble on the ground and the many dead bodies disappeared as the stands with the cheering students came back into view.

"Breathe, Harry." 

Draco stood in front of Harry, his silver eyes roaming over his face, searching for something Harry didn't know. The intensity of Draco's eyes sent shivers down Harry's spine as the blond's face became less blurry with every second. 

Draco's gaze shifted to Harry's hands who - although they somehow managed to land safely onto the ground - were still clutching the handle of his broom in a vice-like grip, his knuckles as white as a sheet of parchment. 

The Snitch lay forgotten on the ground; its wings folded neatly. 

Harry's hands were still trembling when Draco peeled them away from his broom and took them into his own, a soft smile gracing his features as their fingers automatically intertwined. He leaned closer to Harry as he said, "You're okay now, Harry." 

Never once breaking eye contact with the boy in front of him, Harry nodded slowly.

He was okay.

Whatever just happened to him wasn't real.

Right? 

But it had felt real; the sounds of people screaming, the feeling of the cold air on his skin, the smell of destruction and _death_... It had all felt so damn real! 

Harry blinked a few times as he felt Draco release one of his hands to retrieve his broom from the grass.

He still didn't understand how it had happened though. One moment he was flying around the pitch with the Snitch held firmly in his hand and the students cheering loudly, and the next moment he was standing between ruins as everyone around him was screaming. 

Though, he had to admit the cheers of the students sounded an awfully lot like the cries from his 'vision' - if you could even call it that; an episode perhaps? 

"Thank you", Harry whispered when Draco stood back up from retrieving his broom. 

The blond turned to look at Harry, his eyes twinkling softly and a fond smile appearing on his lips. He opened his mouth as if to say something, yet he didn't have the chance as their teammates chose that moment to show up and surround them, laughing and congratulating Harry on their win. 

Smiling politely at all his teammates, Harry tried to ignore the slight tightening of his chest again at the loud cheers of everyone around him. He was thankful for the reassuring weight of Draco's hand in his own as he talked to the Hufflepuff Seeker, making sure they were okay after the Bludger had hit them. 

Somehow, the feeling of Draco's hand intertwined with his own helped in keeping him grounded. 

Someone had yet to notice the two boys' connected hands, though they all seemed to be too busy with celebrating their win to care much. Or, at least that's what Harry hoped. He really didn't fancy any more attention drawn to him than there already was, thank you very much. 

"We've won our first game!", came Ron's loud roar from Harry's right. Ron had a huge grin plastered on his freckled face, his hair sticking out at weird angles from where he had been running his hands through it in excitement. 

Though who could blame him? Ron had worked his arse off over the last month to get his team in top form for the match and his efforts had clearly shown their worth. 

"All thanks to you, captain", Harry smiled widely, trying not to flinch as the ginger patted him fiercely on the back. 

Draco squeezed Harry's hand comfortingly while he was talking to Blaise and Pansy. The gesture immediately calmed Harry back down. 

Ron positively beamed at his best friend, the grin on his face widening even more; Harry was sure his face would split in half at any second now. "Thanks, mate!", the ginger smiled, a faint blush coating his cheeks. 

Just then, Hermione appeared at their side, throwing her arms around her boyfriend's neck and kissing him lovingly. Ron staggered a little at the extra weight thrown at him, but he recovered quickly and answered Hermione's kiss with as much passion, picking her up and twirling them around. 

Feeling as if he was intruding his best friends' little moment, Harry averted his gaze from the couple. 

Yes, he loved his friends. Though he couldn't help but feel like sometimes he was being the third wheel ever since the two of them had gotten together. Not that he was complaining. After everything they had gone through, they all deserved some happiness in their lives. It just felt like sometimes he wasn't needed anymore; like he was a superfluous piece to the puzzle. Sometimes it felt like the Golden Trio had become the Golden Duo. 

Of course, he wasn't going to tell them that; just like he wasn't planning on telling them how he had been feeling over the last month. They didn't need yet another concern to be added to their already long lists of tasks they were expected to do since they had become Head Boy and Girl. They were busy enough as it was. The last thing Harry wanted, was to be a burden to them; to anyone, really... 

As Ron set Hermione back down, she turned to Harry and wrapped her arms around him too, squeezing tightly. "You were absolutely brilliant up there, Harry", she mumbled against his chest, her voice sounding slightly muffled through the fabric of his Quidditch robes. 

A small, yet genuine smile lifted the corners of his lips as he returned the hug, hugging her as best as he could with one arm; his other hand was still very much preoccupied with holding Draco's hand, their fingers firmly intertwined - not that either of them seemed to mind much about that. 

"Thanks, 'Mione", Harry muttered, burying his face in the soft, brown curls of his friend. 

At that moment, surrounded by his friends' laughter and support, Harry felt loved and safe, his lips easily curling into a smile on their own. It was a nice change from the way he had been feeling over the past months, so he was savouring every moment of it while it lasted, tightening his grip ever so slightly on Hermione's tender frame. 

When they eventually pulled away, Hermione gave him a questioning look at the sudden change in her friend's behaviour. Yet Harry simply shook his head. He was fine, truly he was. There was no need to worry about him. 

Or was there? 

"Alright everybody!", Seamus exclaimed loudly from where he was standing next to Dean, a wicked grin appearing on his face. "It's time to celebrate!" 

More cheers rang around the air as everyone started making their way back to the castle. 

Draco, however, stayed behind, squeezing Harry's hand to hold him back too. "I want to talk to you", he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper. 

Tilting his head in question, Harry looked at the serious expression on the blond's face and nodded. He turned back around to inform his friends he would be staying back, only to find them already looking - no, staring - in his direction, their expressions alternating between suspicion and curiosity. 

As Ron was clearly eyeing Draco with distrustful, blue eyes, Hermione had her eyes narrowed. Her gaze flickered momentarily to their connected hands before looking back at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 

"What are you doing, mate?", Ron asked, his gaze never leaving Draco, who was standing rather close to Harry - perhaps a little too close. "Aren't you coming?" 

Trying to give his friends a reassuring smile, Harry shook his head. "Go on ahead", he said, "I'll join you in a few." 

Confusion crossed Ron's face, his eyes narrowing and glaring at Draco. "Are you sure you don't need any help with the Ferret?" 

"Oh, come off it, Ron", Hermione exclaimed, taking one of Ron's hands in hers and dragging the loudly protesting boy with her towards the castle. She turned around and smiled knowingly at Harry before saying, "We'll see you in the common room, Harry!" 

The two boys were left alone on the pitch after that. Everyone had retreated to the castle to celebrate or to do whatever else you could do on a Saturday afternoon.

A heavy silence had fallen between them as they were both waiting for the other to do or say something. Eventually, Draco decided to break the silence.

"Are you okay?", he asked quietly, taking another step closer, so he was standing right in front of Harry. He squeezed their hands momentarily. 

Harry stared at Draco, racking his brain for a believably answer. He could easily say he was fine; he had done it a thousand times before. But something told him that Draco wouldn't believe him. Especially not after what had happened earlier. 

So, perhaps he wasn't fine and hadn't been for quite some time, but... Could he really trust Draco enough to tell him? Did he really want anyone else aside from Luna know how he really felt? 

After all, Luna had been the only one to know the truth so far and Harry had hoped she would stay the only one for a little longer. It had already been hard enough to tell one person, although he didn't regret telling her, but still... 

He didn't think he was ready to tell another person yet. 

But with Draco looking at him like that; like he understood exactly what was happening to Harry; like he truly wanted to help him with whatever was happening to him... 

Perhaps telling Draco wouldn't be so bad? 

But then again, did he really trust Draco enough? Did he really want to tell Draco everything before even his best friends knew?

Sighing deeply, Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing a few strands to stick up in different directions. "I...", Harry began, "I'm fine." 

The words left his mouth, yet he immediately knew it had been the wrong thing to say - if the raised eyebrow and the slight slumping of Draco's shoulders were anything to go by. 

Draco didn't believe him. 

"You're fine", the blond muttered drily, rolling his eyes, "Of course, you were going to say that. It seems to be the only thing coming out of your mouth recently." He shook his head, a few blond locks falling into his eyes. "Why would I even expect anything else?" 

Harry watched quietly as Draco took Harry's other hand in his own and leaned closer, his grey eyes boring into Harry's. "Why?", he asked softly, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of Harry's hand, "Why do you keep lying to everyone? To yourself?" 

"I...", Harry began again, though he stopped when the words caught in his throat. He didn't have an answer to that question. 

Something was holding him back. 

Perhaps he was scared; scared people would find out that Harry Potter wasn't mentally stable; scared they would look at him differently; scared his friends would see him as a different Harry and not the one they knew; scared his friends might actually start seeing him as a freak. 

He didn't want that. He had been called a freak more than enough to last him a life time and he didn't think having to relive that would help him any further... 

Draco squeezed Harry's hand again, letting go of the other and placing a finger under his chin so Harry was forced to look at him. Their faces were only a few inches apart. "You don't have to lie to me, Harry", he whispered, his minty breath ghosting over Harry's lips, "I don't want you to lie to me." 

The words echoed through Harry's head as he gazed into those silver eyes again. From this close Harry could clearly see the dark grey - almost black - specks closer to the pupil, turning Draco's eyes into a reverse night sky. 

But that wasn't the only thing Harry could see. 

He could clearly see all the different emotions swimming in Draco's eyes; from a faint happiness to clear determination and understanding. Harry even thought he had seen another emotion flash in Draco's eyes, though it had passed by too quickly for him to figure out what exactly it had been. 

Draco had dropped his mask. He had dropped his - normally always present - mask of indifference; he had lowered his defences, and Harry... Harry had the privilege to see that. He had the privilege to finally see Draco without any pretences, without even any resemblance of the arrogant 'Malfoy mask' as Harry liked to call it. 

Draco didn't deserve to be lied to, Harry knew that. Yet, he still wasn't completely sure... 

Yes, he and Draco had grown closer over the last month. He could also no longer ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that spread across his chest and the butterflies in his stomach whenever they talked or simply looked at each other - not to forget the _winks_ that had been exchanged on multiple occasions. 

And although they had _definitely_ become friends, Harry didn't think they could be classified as _normal_ friends. 

Do normal friends, for example, hold hands like that? 

Do normal friends feel a slight pull towards the other whenever they were standing this close? 

Do normal friends feel butterflies in their stomach when they talk to each other? 

Do normal friends place a finger under the other's chin to bring their faces even closer? Close enough for their lips to almost touch...

Harry didn't do any of that with Ron or Hermione, let alone with any of his other friends - even the mere thought of him doing any of that with Neville made him shiver unpleasantly. 

So, no. Perhaps they weren't just normal friends. But why couldn't he tell Draco how he really felt though? Why was all of this so bloody confusing? 

"I'm..." 

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind - without much success. 

Why couldn't he do this, dammit?! 

He cursed the unwanted tears that had started forming behind his eyes; he cursed the butterflies that were once again doing somersaults in his stomach; he cursed his bloody life. 

Nothing ever had to be easy for him!

"I'm sorry", Harry choked out, taking a step backwards from the other boy. He couldn't do this, not yet at least. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." 

It was with a heavy heart that Harry turned away from the blond and slowly started making his way towards the castle, ignoring the tears that were now streaming freely down his flushed cheeks. And he definitely ignored the image of the disappointment and sadness and _helplessness_ he had seen flashing through Draco's eyes when he had withdrawn.

He had ruined it again. He had managed to ruin a perfect opportunity. He had managed to ruin whatever they had going on between them. He was sure Draco would easily go back to hating him, and Harry couldn't even be mad at him for that.

He wouldn't blame Draco. 

After all, it was Harry's fault. 

~*~

At some point during the evening, the 'celebration' party for the Eighth Years had moved to the shores of the Black Lake. All Eighth Years, and a few of the youngers years as well, were sitting around a large campfire, laughing and signing campfire songs - although the latter had left most purebloods _very_ confused. 

Harry, on the other hand, had tried to act as if nothing had happened, pushing away any thoughts of Draco to the back of his mind by busying himself with his friends or drinking some of the suspicious beverage Dean and Seamus had made. 

It looked suspiciously like Firewhiskey - it even tasted like it - but when Harry had asked Dean what it was, the boy had winked knowingly at him before joining his boyfriend once again, laughing loudly the whole way. 

So, yes. Harry might have been slightly drunk. He had consumed multiple cups of the liquid already and he had to admit the world was starting to spin a lot faster than it probably should. He didn't care though. 

At least this way his mind didn't automatically wander to a certain very good-looking blond who was currently talking to Astoria Greengrass - _again_ \- on the other side of the campfire. 

How Harry knew that, he didn't know. He had definitely _not_ been staring, thank you very much. 

"Some people might find it disturbing if you keep staring at them like that", a dreamy voice said from Harry's left, blue eyes twinkling merrily in the soft light of the campfire. 

"Hullo Luna", Harry slurred slightly, a lopsided smile gracing his features. 

Without saying a word, Luna took the cup away from Harry and placed it on the ground. "I think you might have had enough to drink, don't you think?", she said, giving him a meaningful look. "Is something bothering you, Harry?" 

Harry eyed the girl sitting next to him, though he had to squint his eyes slightly to actually focus on her. 

The first thing he noticed when she became less blurry was that she wasn't wearing her usual school robes and neither was she wearing one of her own creations. No, instead she was wearing a knitted, red jumper with a huge, blue 'G' in the middle of it. It wasn't hard - even for slightly drunk Harry - to figure out it was one of Molly's famous Weasley jumpers. 

A blush had spread across Luna's cheeks as Harry had been watching her clothes intently. "You're staring again, Harry", she muttered softly, nudging him in the side with her elbow. 

Laughing, Harry put his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry", he smirked, "I simply noticed your amazing jumper and wondered where you got it from." 

Smiling softly, Luna tilted her head slightly, her blond curls bobbing around her head as she glanced over her shoulder. "Someone gave it to me", was her simple answer, though Harry knew exactly who the _'someone'_ was. 

Even though they had never officially announced it, it was still as clear as day Ginny and Luna were together. You would have to be blind not to see the way the two of them looked at each other sometimes; it wasn't like they were hiding it anyways. 

Or you had to be one Ronald Billius Weasley. 

As far as anyone knew, Ron didn't have a clue his little sister was in a relationship with Luna. Though how he hadn't noticed yet, Harry didn't know. If even he - one of the most oblivious creatures to ever walk this earth - had noticed; how had Ron not...? 

"So tell me, Harry," Luna said after a while, "what's bothering you?" 

Harry huffed a laugh at the question. It was yet another variation of _'how are you?'_ or _'are you okay?'._ People seemed to be getting more creative over time. 

Shrugging, Harry answered, "Many things are bothering me." 

Luna nodded her head. "I noticed more Wrackspurts flying around your head earlier." She tapped the pair of glasses in her hair. "Perhaps it has something to do with Draco Malfoy?" 

Running a hand through his hair, Harry turned to look at the campfire. He thought he could faintly see a pair of silver eyes glancing at him from the other side, but when he took a closer look it was already gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. 

"I think I might be confused", Harry admitted eventually, glancing back at Luna who was staring at him, understanding clearly visible in her blue eyes. 

She leaned closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder; just like she had done many times before over the summer. "Have you used the journal I've given you yet?"

Harry nodded. "Every now and again I'll write something in it." 

He felt Luna nod her head too. "I'm glad", she said, "It will help you, Harry. You will see." 

A comfortable silence fell between the two friends as they were simply enjoying each other's quiet company. Harry was observing everyone else around them. 

Dean and Seamus were currently snogging passionately in front of Theo - much to the boy's annoyance, if his loud complaints about the couple always doing _things_ when he could see them, _"Even when I'm trying to sleep, dammit!"_ , were anything to go by. 

Neville and Hannah were talking animatedly about Merlin-knows-what - probably some plant they found exciting. Harry could see the faint blush that coated Neville's face or the small, _'accidental'_ touches they exchanged whenever they were talking to the other. He wondered how long it would take them to realise their feelings for each other. 

Ron and Hermione had somehow disappeared between then and the moment Harry had started talking to Luna. How they had managed to do that without someone noticing, Harry didn't know. And where they had gone to or the reason _why_ they had disappeared, Harry didn't even _want_ to know, thank you very much.

Pansy and Blaise were listening to Daphne Greengrass ranting about something, although the two Slytherins looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. Pansy had her forehead resting on Blaise's shoulder as the latter tried to casually tune out the ranting girl, taking drags from his lit cigarette every now and again. 

And Draco... Draco was _still_ speaking to Astoria.. _._

Harry noticed that he - like Blaise - was smoking a cigarette as he listened to whatever the girl was saying. He smiled fondly every now and again or added something to the story and Harry suddenly found himself wishing it were _him_ Draco was talking to and smiling at. 

But that wouldn't happen. Not after everything Harry had ruined. 

"You two would look lovely together", Luna commented out of the blue. 

Harry started out of his thoughts, spluttering in protest at the girl's words. "I... I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Luna looked at Harry with an eyebrow raised as if to say he was being _very_ stupid. "You _do_ know what I mean, Harry", she said, her eyes twinkling softly again. "You and Draco would be a lovely couple. A rather strange and unexpected, but lovely couple." 

Harry's eyes widened as he shook his head violently. "I think you're getting the wrong ideas", he said. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

Luna giggled as she glanced in Draco's direction. "I've seen the way you look at him, Harry", she smiled, ignoring Harry's protests again, "And I've seen the way he looks at you too." 

"That doesn't explain anything", Harry objected. "People look at each other all the time." 

"Hmm", Luna hummed thoughtfully, "I also might have overheard Helga and Rowena gossiping to each other about the two of you," she giggled fondly, "but I do believe I have to agree with them." 

Harry gaped openly at the girl sitting next to him, absolutely flabbergasted about the fact that she had figured something out even _he_ himself didn't know yet. 

But was she right though? 

"I don't think you have to worry about Astoria either", she continued. "She's a very lovely girl, though I'm fairly certain Draco doesn't really swing that way." 

If possible, Harry's mouth fell open even wider. How even...? 

Shrugging, Luna finally averted her gaze from the fire to look at Harry. An amused twinkle was visible in her dreamy, blue eyes as she lifted her hand and pushed against Harry's chin to close his mouth again. "You're going to catch Wrackspurts." 

"You know", she continued, "Now that I think about it, Draco might actually be the solution to get rid of all those Wrackspurts flying around you. They're clearly clouding your mind more and more." 

Finally - after what felt like an eternity - Harry managed to get his brain working again. He shook his head and raised an eyebrow at the blonde next to him. "I'm not so sure I know what you're talking about", he admitted quietly, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile gracing his lips. 

Luna tilted her head. "You don't know much, do you?", she asked. "But don't worry about that Harry", she smiled. "You will understand. Sooner than you think." 

To say Harry was confused about this whole conversation, was an understatement. 

It had been a long time since he had talked to Luna and he had to admit he hadn't missed the way his brain always seemed to turn into mush whenever he talked to her about anything else bar from how he was doing. 

He just didn't seem to grasp her way of thinking. 

"There you are, Luna!", a voice exclaimed from the other side of the blonde. 

With a loud _oomph_ Ginny half-tripped, half-sat down on the ground, bumping her head against Luna's shoulder. With a glare directed at the tree root that had clearly offended her, she grabbed one of Luna's hands in her own and entwined their fingers - much the same as his and Draco’s had done earlier that day. 

_Do normal friends hold hands like that?_

"I've been looking for you", the ginger said to her girlfriend, "Boot just _wouldn't_ stop gloating about his first win of the season. He even declared the Eighth Years will win the Quidditch Cup this year. Ha! As if they will stand a chance against Gryffindor!"

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes eventually landing on a very amused-looking Harry Potter. 

"Oh... Hi, Harry." 

Harry laughed at the dark blush creeping up the gingers neck and onto her freckled face. He threw his head in his neck. "Hello to you too, Gin." 

She rolled her eyes, smiling brightly. "You seem to be having fun", she commented when she saw the laughter still dancing in Harry's eyes. 

Luna shrugged. "We were having a nice conversation", she admitted.

Harry didn't think he could call their conversation _'nice'_. Confusing, yes. But nice? 

"Well then", Ginny said, "would you mind, Harry, if I stole Luna away for a while?" She looked at him, pleading, brown eyes staring back into his own green ones. 

Harry couldn't prevent the fond smile from appearing on his face as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Gin", he said, motioning his hands at them to go away. "Go ahead." 

"Thank you, Harry!", she exclaimed, leaning over Luna to peck him on the cheek before excitedly taking Luna's other hand too and helping the girl up. 

Luna turned around and waved at Harry before Ginny dragged her along, away from the lake and towards the castle. The two were all but skipping back to the vast doors of the Entrance Hall. 

So, that left Harry alone again, though he didn't seem to mind as much as he thought he would. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system talking, but still, he felt more relaxed than he had felt that afternoon. 

Yet one thing kept repeating in his head. 

What if Draco would be his solution for those invisible Wrackspurts Luna always saw? What if Draco would be his solution to his nightmares, like Godric had told him about a few weeks earlier? 

But even _if_ Draco had been his solution to any of that, Harry had ruined that anyways, hadn’t he? He was certain Draco wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore, not after that afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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